Winter's Fury
by LolaStark
Summary: Robb questions his honor when offered the hand of Stannis Baratheon's eldest daughter, Selene, in return for a powerful alliance in his war against the Lannisters. Selene questions more than her duty when she is left waiting on her wedding day for a husband she never wanted in the first place. AU - RobbxOC
1. Prologue

**Winter's Fury  
by LolaStark**

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****| Prologue |****

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and my original plot. Everything else belongs to GRRM and HBO accordingly.

Author's Note: Oops, I started another story didn't I? Sorry about that. I am supposed to be on a much needed hiatus but I got in the mood one day to finally start writing Winter's Fury even though I promised myself I would finish one more story before I got into it. But the fact of the matter is, I have been holding onto this story for too long, over a year now, and I wanted to post it before something similar got posted and I had to regret it. Selfish, I know. That being said, I hope you enjoy this story. Selene is a character I have been writing for a long time now and I'm eager to share her. Please let me know what you think of her and this story as it progresses. And as usual, any feedback is greatly appreciated.  
Thanks everyone, Lola.

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**| Seventeen Years Prior - Robert's Rebellion |**

SELENE

She shivered with every step of her feet, her toes cold against the stone floors of the staircase. She could hear the storms outside, the thunder pulsing through the castle as if it is a stirring beast in the dungeons of her home.

She remembered thinking it was, once. Beasts, dragons maybe.

Her uncle often told her such dark stories that made her skin crawl and her fingers tremble with fear. But not anymore. Now she would be brave, she reminded herself as she descended further and further in the pit of the castle where a glowing light was now growing brighter and brighter with each step.

Her hands still grasped the railing, just in case she slipped, she thought. She did not realized until another bout of thunder shook the stone fortress that she had not overcome her fear. Still she shook as her fingers clung to the rail. Still she felt her heart pounding in her chest as if she might explode from the inside out. Still she was afraid.

_Be brave_, were her father's words in her mind, his voice seemed to echo into the darkness above as she glanced back from where she had come.

The shrunken stairwell, leading down into the depths of the castle belonged to the servants. It was the hidden passage from the main hall to the dungeons. It was the path she was always forbidden to take. But times were different now. Times were dire and bleak indeed although perhaps she was too young to really understand why.

She understood only that adults often talked in front of her in hurried whispers. Her father would shout, pound his fists onto the tables as he grew weaker and weaker by the day whilst her mother sobbed in the corner, gripping her stomach where there was once to be a son.

Now there was only Selene. As it had always been.

No one whispered now. There were shouts when necessary but almost always silence instead. They were too weak to argue, too weak to fight back. Even Selene felt the weakness wrenching deeper and deeper into her and each weary step made her wish she had stayed put as her mother had instructed.

But she couldn't stay put. She needed to be there, with the rest of them. She needed comfort and warmth because she knew soon there would be none left. Perhaps it was a dark thought. But she knew what fate was coming for her. She was very young but that had not stopped her father from speaking the truth. Soon there would be death and it would come in many forms.

But she did not know which would be the one to come for her.

A familiar smell hit her then, a strong smell that caused her stomach to turn. There was nothing in her stomach, nothing to heave even if she wanted to. Instead she covered her nose, scrunching it under her hand as she pretended that it did not exist. Pretended that she did not know the smell of a rotting corpse.

"My Lady," a man whispered from her right and she jumped slightly at the sound.

Looking up she saw a familiar face of one of her father's knights. He once had a warm face and a kind smile. Now he was tired and weak like the rest of them. Like her. She might have been the strongest person in Storm's End but she was too young and small to make any difference. She did not know why they wasted all they had on her.

"You ought not be here, My Lady," he whispered frantically, reaching down to pick her up but she stumbled backwards. She gasped, frightened when she saw it was a man, his eyes shut and his face gaunt and weathered. Dead, she thought and she covered her mouth as she tried not to scream.

She made her self stand, without help from the man above her. She turned her eyes from the dead man lying on the ground, only to find another just over her shoulder. She hated this room, feared it even. But she wanted to see her father, needed to see him. As soon as she started to ask, muffled shouts from the nearest room were indication enough of his location.

The door was slightly ajar and a candle flickered somewhere within its enclosed space. She knew why her father's knight wanted to usher her out. The siege had made her father hard and cold. But most of all, he was growing weaker by the day and it was something he preferred to do without prying eyes. Even his own daughter's.

"My Papa?," she whispered and her small voice was hoarse now.

The knight reached down to pick her up again and this time she let him with a frown on her pursed lips. She was too tired to argue, too frail to protest his kindness. Everyone always wanted to pick her up because of her size. She was small, miniscule to the rest of them, tall giants in her eyes. She was only a child, her fourth name day some time off yet. She did not understand everything or even most things that were going on. But she knew very well that they were in trouble.

The knight carried her from one dimly lit room to another, her head fallen weakly on his shoulder, and it was there that she saw her father. Dark circles were under his eyes as he hovered over his table with papers sprawled around him and his hair disheveled. He was the only one standing amongst his men, men who wore the same tired expressions as the knight whose arms carried her quietly into the room.

"We have no more resources, My Lord. We have degraded ourselves for that of our survival and soon, all hope will be lost. We have nothing left except the decaying bodies of our fallen comrades," one man explained, his tone defeated.

"Mace Tyrell is at our gates. We cannot defeat him. We are too weak, wasting away in here. Dying off one by one as he would have us," another tried to shout but it came out as only a desperate sigh.

"Take your family, My Lord Stannis, and leave this place."

"There is no leaving this place, not now. We are past all points of escape. This is all we have left. Storm's End is the seat of my ancestors, Storm Kings of old. I will _not_ flee."

Her father only glanced up briefly when silence interrupted his ranting and he saw her tired eyes focused on him. He stared at her with an expression rarely seen. But she did not take her eyes of him as tears began to form in her previously dry eyes. She wanted to lift her head but she couldn't. She was tired and now scared.

"Papa," she cried out and the ache in her voice caused several of the men to shift uncomfortably at her pain.

"I will take care of her," her mother declared, embarrassment in her voice as if Selene had just humiliated her in front of the entire council. But she saw her father hold his hand to stay his wife's movements. She stayed seated, her eyes watching his movements carefully but Selene did not notice if it was relief or jealousy in them.

There was only a moment's hesitation in his step, and then her father was quickly at her side. He wasted no time in taking her from the knight, conceding to her outstretched arms and pulling her small body to his chest.

She wanted to stay there, engulfed in what warmth he had left as they left the room. His hand once covered her eyes to bar her from seeing the horrors that had become of Storm's End and it's near year long siege. But now he no longer bothered. She knew what had become of her home, of the fortress that had once been so feared.

It was only a matter of time before they all succumbed.

Still, she did not want to see more death, the death the lingered in the dampness of the dungeons and so she shut her eyes against her father's shoulder. She left tear stains on his tunic, all ratty and worn because she was sure he'd been wearing the same one for at least a week, maybe more.

She did not open her eyes until they reached the great hall, the seat where her Uncle Robert usually sat was now occupied by her father as he cradled her in his arms. She fought to keep her eyes open as he glanced down at her, his normally hard eyes warm with something she did not know. But she liked it, and so no matter how badly she wanted to sleep, she fought to keep them open so she could memorize that look and keep it with her always.

"Papa, I'm scared," she forced herself to whisper into the dark room.

He simply nodded. She did not know what it meant, a nod of the head. That it was okay to be scared or perhaps that he was scared as well. Candlelight danced over his eyes and she saw there was water in them, just in the corners and she reached up to wipe them. His eyes closed when her small fingertips grazed his stubbled face. She thought maybe it was because he was tired too. Like her.

"You don't have to be scared for much longer," he whispered into her hair, his calloused fingers stroking her dark raven curls.

She thought she felt something sharp against her flesh, something cold like metal but her eyes were too tired to open once they had closed. She wanted to sleep. When she slept she didn't hurt, she didn't feel constant pain or hunger. She just dreamt.

"MY LORD STANNIS!" someone shouted and it startled her enough that she jerked in her sleep.

"LEAVE US!" her father shouted, though his shout was was strangled by the dryness of his throat.

"But My Lord! It is a miracle!" the man tried to explain and though Selene's weak mind was too tired to comprehend what said miracle was, she noticed a shift in her father's stature, in his eyes. "A man called Davos has made it through Lord Redwyne's fleet lines. His boat is filled with food!"

Food, she thought. She remembered food.

"Send him in," Stannis muttered quickly and she thought he might have tried to stand, holding her still in his arms but he wavered slightly and was soon seated once more.

Selene wanted to see the food, wanted to see the miracle man who was causing something akin to hope to flicker behind her father's eyes once more. She struggled to sit up but her head was too heavy. She laid it across her father's chest as she pried her eyes open, rubbing them with her small hands footsteps flooded the room.

He stood there, a man with a hard face like her father's, covered in rain and a hood of rather poor quality. Over his shoulder he carried a large sack which he threw to the floor as soon as he stood before her father. Both men stared at one another for a long moment before the wet man knelt before Lord Stannis of the House Baratheon.

"Milord," he started simply, but there was confidence in his voice, a strength that Storm's End has been lacking for some time since the siege took hold. But it filled the room, and Selene liked the sound of it. "I have heard of the Seige on Storm's End and have made my way across enemy lines in hopes that there were still enough people alive in here that I could do some good."

"Who are you?" her father asked. "How did you break through Redwyne's fleet?"

"I…" the man started and his eyes glance downward. "I know my way around Breakwater Bay, Milord, and I know how to do so discreetly."

"You mean of course to say that you are a smuggler," her father retorted and she thought for a moment that she heard some humor in his voice.

But the man reached for the sack that he had previously dropped and he let the contents spilled out onto the stone floor before him. It was dark in the room, only a small candle lit and soon it too would burn out like most of the others and the castle would then be engulfed in constant darkness. But there was enough light that she could see something round, something that rolled out of the bag towards where they are seated and the man wrapped his fingers around one and stands.

"May I approach, Milord?" he asked and her father took some time before he nodded his assent. "Tis but a humble offering. But the siege has gone on too long. I couldn't sit out there knowing so many were starving to death in here." He placed the round object in her father's hands and she glanced over at it as he looked it over, his eyes wide.

"How much have you brought?" her father asked then and the man summons someone with his hand. Several men filed in behind him, carrying sacks similar to the one laid out before them now and they laid them down next to the man's feet. He grabbed another round object, this one smaller and that time he handed it to her and his eyes lingered on something in her father's hand and then on her.

"It looks as if I arrived just in time," he replied quietly and there is something strange in the look her father gave back to him.

"They did say you were a miracle," Stannis said and it almost sounds like a joke.

Selene stared at the object for many moments before the man knelt down at her level and took one of the round things in his own hand before he bit into it, not bothering to wipe the liquid that spilled out over his beard.

She followed his action, remembering how her stomach growled earlier that evening and she made a face when the taste hits her tongue. The man laughed at the sight of it, finally wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic as he watched her in amusement.

"You will get used to the taste of it Milady," he assured her and she took another bite.

The second bite, as it turned out, was not so bad.

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A/N: Thank you for reading the first chapter - prologue - however you want to call it. Please leave any questions or comments in the review box below. And please enjoy the upcoming chapters. Thanks again!


	2. Chapter One

Author's Note: Thank you for taking the time to read the prologue and now chapter 1! Back to the present day and I am throwing us right into the War of the Five Kings. Please enjoy!

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**| Chapter One |**

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**| Present Day - War of the Five Kings |**

SELENE

There was nothing more freeing than the feeling of a salty breeze, rushing against one's face. It was her theory, that a harsh enough wind could erase any burdens, lift them and cast them out to sea. She had yet to prove such a theory, however, and even with the rushing wind and the stinging salt in her eyes, her burdens felt as heavy as ever.

She had not been to Dragonstone in many years, she thought, as she sat at the bow of the ship, a book in hand and a few sideways glances at the bustling harbor. She was supposed to be in her lessons, hidden away from view of all the common people who did not have her father's express permission to gaze upon her. These were desperate times, he'd told her. A new era was upon them. But she had a mind of her own and it needed relief, the kind of relief that could not be won cooped up inside castle walls and away from prying eyes.

There was one pair of prying eyes, however, that watched her with a smirk on his tight lips and she pretended not to notice as she flipped through another page of her book, pushing a dark curl behind her ear.

Allard was supposed to be cleaning his ship, the ship that her father had given his father and in turn, had then been passed down to him. But instead of swabbing the deck he ate his apple and watched her read as he often did on days like these.

"I wonder if I'll ever see your nose outside a book, Milady," he mused, sinking his teeth into the apple's skin and though she does not see him, she can hear the puncturing of the red flesh.

"My mind needs constant stimulation," she teased, without a twist of her lip or a single glance upward and she could hear him chuckle as he tossed the core or whatever was left overboard into the waters below.

His boots were loud as he walked across the wooden deck, each step it's own distraction and she even lost her place once or twice until he finally stopped, barely an arm's length in front of her. It was then that she allowed herself to remove her eyes from the worn pages of her favorite book, up over his doublet, his arms and then his pointed chin. Finally she found his eyes, as she moved passed his lips and distinguished nose.

His eyes were dark, a warm brown that eased her mind when it was constantly spinning. His teeth appeared under his grin, his lips peeled back and it was a look that always caused something unseemly to tug at her stomach.

He crouched down so that he was at her level, something he almost never did because, as it happened, Selene was somewhat tall for her gender. She often stood at the same height as him, looking him straight in the eye as if they were equals. She liked to believe they were, equals in all things. Her knowledge of maritime warfare and ships rivaled that of his own. To that, he had been hard pressed to admit.

His hand touched her chin in the same way he always did, tilting it upwards ever so slightly so he could stare down at her lips, ripe for the taking. He wouldn't, not here, not when they were so very far from alone. But he'd stare at them, longingly and with each passing moment Selene could feel something rising within her. It started in her stomach, deep in the lowest part of her belly as if it was dancing beneath her flesh. And soon it would rise, speeding the pounding of her chest and warming the blood in her pale cheeks so much she must have looked like a fool every time he put his hands on her.

But she could not help herself. She rarely enjoyed physical contact. In fact, most times she found herself pulling away when someone would reach out to touch her. A simple graze of the hand at a dinner caused a discomfort to swell in her stomach, and not in a pleasant manner.

But for some unexplainable reason, the hands of Allard Seaworth were immune to her distastes. And if she was honest with herself, it was nearly all she thought about when her mind wandered off in the darkest part of the night.

"I would like to remember you like this," he whispered and her heart skipped when she felt his breath dance over her lips. His thumb traced the bottom one so softly that she felt herself tremble. "Will you think of me while I'm away?"

She wished she had some sort of witty response on hand, something that would make him laugh, tease him slightly instead of looking as desperate as she assuredly did as she leaned into him and glanced towards his mouth.

"You know I will," she whispered and she knew it would please him because he then grabbed her hand.

He lowered his head then towards her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers lightly, lingering over each and every one until he finally pressed her palm against his lips and set it gently back into her lap. It was a gentle action, sweet even and only slightly out of character.

Allard enjoyed taking action when it came to Selene. He was the one who pursued her. He was the one who incessantly chipped away her walls until she was finally inclined to take notice of him perhaps despite her better judgement. He was the one who had pushed her, not so gently, up against the wall of the ship's galley and gifted her a first kiss. Her very first.

If ever Selene could love a man, she thought, perhaps it could be Allard.

When he pulled away quickly, she knew they were no longer alone. She glanced up under her lashes and saw his father, Ser Davos making his way onto the ship and Allard did not glance at her again, not in the presence of King Stannis Baratheon's most loyal man. Davos only barely acknowledged his son. His true mission was her, she could tell by his solemn expression and the way his eyes would not meet hers at first.

"Princess," was his greeting, bowing his head slightly and she frowned at the use of the title she had now come to despise. It had a new meaning now. Now, it was too real. "Your father requests your presence."

"Yes of course," she replied, her shoulders back and her head high. Just as she was taught. He reached out his hand and she took it gently, allowing him to help her from her place. She held his arm in one hand, and her book in the other and despite Davos' knowing stare, she could not help but glance over her shoulder as they departed the ship to see Allard one last time.

He didn't look back.

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She stood for a long while before he acknowledged her.

The room was dark, only a few candles lit on his desk where he was reading over a letter. He did not look up as she entered, Davos on her right. The Red Woman was there, sitting elegantly on the edge of his desk, reading over his shoulder like a devil whispering her evil plots down his neck.

Her father seemed enamored by the woman and her ideas. But Selene found her altogether unsettling. From brief glances and not-so-subtle scoffs, it was clear that Davos shared her opinion about the woman whose false beliefs had led her father to commit parricide, and in some eyes, regicide.

_Kinslayer_, they whispered.

She thought of her uncle, but only for a brief moment because she felt like when she did she was betraying her father. As if a disapproval of his actions, of his reliance on the Red Witch at his side, was directly defying him as a king.

She may have disagreed with her father on many matters but of his right to rule, she did not. She knew that Ned Stark had discovered the Queen's secret, that her children were products of incest with the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister. It was a shocking revelation, but not altogether surprising. Selene had seen the way the twins had behaved with one another, the slight resemblance of Joffrey's smirk or Tommen's laugh to the man they called 'Uncle'. But she dared not speak of such things, even to her father for fear of what consequences might befall her family. It was Ned Stark who had paid the ultimate price for his loyalty to Robert. And it was her father, Stannis Baratheon - a second son - who was now the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

Of that she supported him wholeheartedly.

But to support and desire were two different matters entirely. Her father may have toyed with the prospect of becoming King one day, of wearing a crown and ruling a kingdom. But Selene had never once entertained the idea in her head, not even for a moment. She knew the dangers of what moments could do, of how quickly danger could descend upon the unsuspecting.

In one brief moment a king had died, a great man had lost his head, and she had become a princess to the Seven Kingdoms, as had Shireen. They could have refused, let Renly usurp the throne and take all of his Southern support with him to win back the crown. King's Landing would have adored him. But he would not have been the King they needed. And Selene knew, despite her unwillingness to rule one day, that her father was not only the rightful king, but the ruler the Kingdoms deserved.

"Has Willas Tyrell attempted to reconcile?" were her father's first words to her and still his eyes were focused on the parchment in his hand. She fiddled with a bit of parchment of her own in the folds of her dress as she concealed the letter from the Lord in question.

Melisandre's eyes traveled up to meet hers and Selene tried her best not to reveal how much the woman made her skin crawl. Davos shifted uncomfortably next to her and she could have sworn they both were holding their breath.

"I did in fact receive a raven from Lord Willas, only this afternoon," she admitted though she had been in no hurry to share the news.

"And did he speak of the engagement?" he questioned and suddenly she felt as if she were under one of his interrogations.

"He asked about the weather and was very generous with his pleasantries. But there was very little discussion of our arrangement. In fact, I believe he mentioned that his sister, Lady Margaery, was being welcomed to King's Landing, alongside her brother Ser Loras," she answered and it was as they both had suspected.

Per her Uncle Robert's request, she had been betrothed to Willas Tyrell for the obvious purposes of uniting two very important houses. Gold of course was the ultimate goal of the marriage and along with the Baratheon prestige the crown would receive much Tyrell gold. But tensions had increased close to the death of the King. And soon after, Renly had declared himself Robert's heir and Margaery Tyrell his queen.

She had heard very little from Willas then and she suspected it had everything to do with the Tyrells choosing which Baratheon they were planning to back in this power struggle. But once news of Renly's untimely and mysterious death had spread, once again she began hearing from her former betrothed though no mention was made of their contract. That was, until she read that Margaery was being considered to wed the new king. Joffrey.

It was a subtle hint at what she had already inferred. Willas may not have been her ideal choice in husband, but he was nothing if not a gentleman. He had given her fair warning that their alliance was coming to an end. Once a crown was on Margaery's beautiful little head, then there would be no use of Selene Baratheon, daughter of a traitor.

"I think it is safe to assume that the Tyrells will be no help to us in this war you plan to wage," she spoke and her voice was calm and brazen.

Melisandre looked at her in surprise, as if Selene's words were too bold for her station. But Selene was the daughter of a king now, heiress to the Seven Kingdoms. Her place would always be that above the harlot snake.

"And what would you suggest? We both know that if the Tyrells align with the Lannisters, we will lose support in the South," he reminded her and she felt more relaxed like this, more comfortable talking to her father about strategy rather than love letters.

She had suggested Dorne many times over for no reason other than the Martells held ungodly amounts of gold. Without gold, there was no hope of restoring the succession. Stannis Baratheon might have been the rightful heir, but the nobles would not back him without gold to fill their pockets.

"We have neglected the idea of turning to the Martells for too long," she finally says and she can tell they are about to have the same argument they've had time and time again.

"The Martells have no reason to back us, not when it was a Baratheon who unseated their sister," Stannis stated reasonably with a slight hint of impatience in his low tone.

"And yet it was the Lannisters who were responsible for her death," she contradicted. "We could give them the perfect excuse to finally exact their revenge."

"It would be a disaster in the making, My King," the Red Woman cooed and Selene could feel her fingers closing into fists. "The Martells will back you until they can unseat you as well. They will not discriminate in their revenge of those who wronged their House. It was your brother who sat on the throne previously occupied by their allies and their own blood."

"And who might you propose then," Selene hissed and her father's eyes fell on her with disapproval at her tone. "While I make no apologies for my impatience, My Lord Father, I do beg to know who she has her eyes set on that she insists on interjecting her opinion of who I should marry."

Her father might have reprimanded her, but it seemed as though he, too, was curious at the Red Woman's reaction. All three of them glanced up at her, waiting for her response as she slid down off the desk, her eyes trained on Selene as she made her way to the large map, sprawled out over the table displaying all of Westeros.

Her path twisted as she edged the coast of Storm's End, past Dragonstone and then the Vale until she reached her intended target. Her fingers enclosed over a figurine, large and made of marble. From where she stood, Selene could see it was a direwolf and she already knew she would not like the words that would next come off the woman's lips.

"Robb Stark has already begun his campaign towards King's Landing-" she began but Selene scoffed immediately.

"Father," she begged, amusement in her voice at the idea of Robb Stark, the self-proclaimed King in the North. "I feel I must object. The mention of the boy's name alone is ludicrous."

"And yet I still have yet to hear a viable option to contradict it," he replied. Her eyes grew wide at his insinuation. This wasn't news to him. The Red Woman had already made him part of another of her plots.

"He names himself king against the throne that is rightfully yours!" Selene's voice began to rise above what she had been told was a lady-like octave. But she did not care what was appropriate. She was the future queen and if he wanted her to act like one, than he would have to listen to her raise her voice. "And what good, might I ask, would come out of my marriage to a rebel house? A house that has publicly renounced all ties to our throne and our Kingdoms as well as any respect for it's rulers."

"I am out of options, Selene. We have no friends in this war, aside from our bannermen. We have no allies that will help us take King's Landing. Robb Stark wants revenge for his father's death and I doubt he will have any qualms when I hand him Ned Stark's killers."

"And when this war is through, do you think Robb Stark will give up his North? The Northerners fight for him now. They will never fight for us. Not after they have been so recently liberated."

"Perhaps they will, for a Baratheon Queen," he replied and she tried to come to terms with the word. Her eventual fate if the crown was returned to them. Much sooner if she married the Stark. "Stark needs ships. You will bring with you a fleet of them as your dowry. With the Young Wolf's army at our backs, we can take back Westeros. I can repair what Robert destroyed. If the succession is restored then the North is a sacrifice I am willing to make."

"They will not trust you," she whispered. "I have heard that Lady Stark was at Storm's End. They say she was there when my Uncle was murdered." Her father's jaw tightened. "How do you expect them to trust us?"

"You underestimate your worth, Selene. To offer you to Stark would give him an immense amount of power when I die."

"If we succeed," she reminded him but his expression was beginning to grow impatient with her comments.

"If I do not, then the fight would be yours," he informed her, his tone serious. "That crown is your birthright."

"And if I do not want it?"

He stood then, quickly at first because she had offended him. She knew it would anger him to say such a thing and for a moment that was what she wanted, a moment to speak freely. But as he walked over to her, he looked at her with determination, as if in that simple glance he could impress upon her his same desire to fix the kingdoms.

"We are not afforded such luxuries as choice. The realm is our responsibility and it is our duty to ensure it is looked after." Many moments passed as he looked down at her, her father's height that rivaled her own. Soon she could see his expression darkening. "Is this about that boy?" he asked, not bothering to whisper, his frown deepening. "Did I not make myself clear about him?"

She did not look to Davos, who was still on her right. It would only make matters worse. She only looked up at her father, looked at the disappointment in his eyes. It was a look she was not familiar with. She was not sure how to explain herself now that her expression had assuredly given her away.

"Father you must understand-"

"No," he nearly shouted, interrupting her attempt to explain. And then his voice lowered. "It is you who must understand. Do you think I would ever let you marry the son of a smuggler, let alone a second son?" he asked, his voice softer than she'd expected but the sound of it sent chills down her back.

"Ser Davos is a knight," she said defiantly. "His sons-"

"Are not," he interrupted. "You are my heir, the heir to the Iron Throne should we succeed in this war, and you will not have Allard Seaworth for a husband. How many times have I told you before, your marriage is not your decision?!"

"Am I to have no choice then? I am to be queen and yet I have no power?"

"You are not queen yet, girl," he said darkly. "King's sell their daughters for alliances. That is the way this world works. It is time you put your childishness aside and stop believing that you are any different."

He left her then, anger in his eyes that matched her own. Baratheon Fury in their Baratheon blue eyes. She was glad when the Red Woman followed, a snide smirk on her lips as she followed her king. She was alone in the room then with only Ser Davos in the corner, staring up at her as she sat at her father's vacant desk chair. She glanced down over the map, tracing her fingers over the North and sighed.

"You father does not mean those words, Princess," he told her and she laughed, bitterly.

"Does he not?" she replied. "It is a surprise he even acknowledges me at all. Oh had my mother just given him the son he wanted," she groaned.

"And do you think that would truly give you leave to marry my son?" he asked, his tone more amused than anything and she shrugged. "Do you refuse to marry Robb Stark because of Allard, Selene?"

Her eyes rose from the table and she looked up at Davos. This man who had always seemed like a hero to her, a man above men. More of a father than her own.

"It is nothing so foolish, Ser Davos" she admitted. It was the truth. If she had felt herself in love with anyone then perhaps she could love Allard Seaworth. But she knew better than to subject herself to such feelings. What use was love in this game of thrones? she often told herself.

"He would not make you a good match, child," Davos told her and she was surprised at his words. "Allard is rash and headstrong. You two would clash more days than you would love. And as much as I would be honored to call you my daughter, Selene, I cannot let you marry him."

"Do you think Stark will agree to it?" she whispered, not acknowledging the words that had just passed between them. She did not want to think of Allard then. Or perhaps ever again for fear of what she might feel.

"I cannot say for sure. From what I have heard, he is Ned Stark's son, through and through. If any ally is to be trusted it would be him. I think he will listen to reason and he will see that he needs more strength in this war if he wishes to succeed. And he'll need your ships if he wants Casterly Rock." She agreed with him on that. She, too, had heard rumors of this Young Wolf who set out to avenge his father. "But most of all, I think he would make you a better husband than a Martell. He is a good man, from what I do know. And he will treat you honorably and with kindness."

"They say he is betrothed, that his how he came by so many Frey men," she countered. "How can we expect a man who prides himself on his honor to go back on his word? A man who trades one bride for another to get what he wants. How good are his promises then?"

It was a valid question.

"Pacts change during war and sometimes, there are more important choices to make. If he is any man of reason, he will see that this opportunity is bigger than any old bridge. Old Walder will be placated with gold."

"The promise of gold, you mean."

It was a statement, not a question.

"Indeed."

"Very well then. If the Stark agrees to it," she whispered, hesitating slightly, realizing she was willingly about to sell herself to a stranger. "I will marry him."


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

* * *

ROBB

He read the letter more than once, more than twice even and still the words were the same. Still Stannis Baratheon, with his signature and his seal, was attempting to negotiate an alliance.

"It sounds like a farce," Olyvar says from over his shoulder, causing Robb to jump slightly at his proximity.

Olyvar Frey was his squire, a young man of one and twenty, was fast becoming Robb's closest friend in Theon's absence. He had yet to hear back word from his foster-brother who had traveled west towards his former home of Pyke to garner support from his father, Balon Greyjoy.

It seemed as though the weeks were quickly turning into endless months, each battle bringing him closer and closer to his goal of taking Lannisport and in turn, Casterly Rock. His campaign had been largely successful thus far. But although Robb had never lost a battle, he still felt as though he was losing this war.

He wanted Tywin Lannister's head on a pike, his children and his grandson's alongside it. And yet all he had to show for his success was holdings in the Westerlands that he wanted nothing to do with. Land beyond land, nobles bowing to his every whim, but not the revenge that he so desperately sought out for.

Olyvar read the letter once more and Robb knew he had to go to his council with Stannis's proposition. It was an alliance, with Stannis Baratheon, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Robb suddenly felt very much like his father, fighting to usurp a king, the Wolf and the Stag coming together. But in the end both the Stag and the Wolf had suffered for their friendship. And Stannis was nothing like his brother Robert.

The rumors did not take long to reach Robb's camps, and the suspicious death of Renly Baratheon had been confirmed by his mother's arrival and tale of a sinister murder orchestrated by none other than Stannis himself. But it was nothing but a ghost story, something they could not prove.

She would not approve, he knew that, and he weighed his mother's opinion above all others. But he could not deny that with each day he did not hear from Theon, he grew more and more unsure of himself and his ultimate ability to finish this war he had started. Could he take Lannisport without Greyjoy ships? Could he turn on King's Landing without a fleet to lay siege to the Great Keep?

Even he was not so foolish to try.

But Stannis Baratheon was the former Master of Ships to the Seven Kingdoms. Even now, as the heir to Robert's throne he commanded an impressive fleet of his own. It would be worth an alliance. Stannis wanted King's Landing, it was his birthright, and Robb wanted to rid the Lannisters of their power, and their lives. Together they might be able to accomplish both of their goals.

But at what cost? he wondered.

He did not know if it was a wise decision, but the simplicity of indulging the man in a parlay seemed too good an offer to pass up. It was a risk that was worth taking. Stannis was just as desperate as him for this war to be over. And if he was coming to Robb for help, then he must have exhausted his options elsewhere. Which meant he might be willing to concede quite a lot to seal this arrangement.

And Robb was willing to find out just what the old man had to offer.

* * *

"Was this truly the best idea?" his mother asked, sitting atop her horse as they stood on neutral ground, leaning over to keep her voice low as they saw Stannis and his guard approaching up the hill.

"I cannot win this war without more allies, mother. You warned me I could not trust Balon Greyjoy and perhaps you were right. Now I must remedy this whilst I still can," he explains and he knows she's already agreed that their current situation might be only good for a last resort. But soon, Robb knew he could be grasping at straws.

Pinkmaiden was a fair distance from his camp, but it was as far away from his army as he will dare travel during this war. He feared leaving his bannermen idle for too long would cause them to long too much for their homes. The longer the men sat, the more likely they were to abandon their cause all together. So when Stannis trotted up, a older man on his left and a woman, dressed in all red on his right, he was in no mood to waste time with pleasantries.

"Your Grace," Robb managed to greet, dismounting his horse and giving a slight bow of his head to the man who was only slightly taller than himself. Robb was not sure what to expect, having only heard stories of the man with a heavy brow and a straight upper lip.

He was everything his father told him, cold eyes and an even colder expression. He seemed almost bored, as if Robb had been the one to call the parlay and it was him wasting the Stag King's time. But with a slight bow of his own head, he too showed Robb respect worthy of his title before placing his hands behind his back in contemplation.

Stannis was first to speak. "I thank you for meeting me," he began. "I know you and I both are far too busy warring with our enemies, but it has recently come to my attention that you and I share an enemy, an enemy that perhaps would be more easily defeated if we were on common ground."

"I gathered so much from your letter," Robb replied sternly. He did not mean to be rude, but he also did not want to seem weak or intimidated by the experienced man in front of him. He thought if it were someone else, they might smile. In fact,the woman behind him smiled slightly at Robb's boldness. But this was Stannis Baratheon, and Robb had heard stories that bordered on legends of the man who never dared smile.

"I want to be clear that I do not condone your rebellion," he announced, like a father scolding his son. "I believe rising up against one's king is an act of treason. One which I would answer with my sword were it one of my subjects. That being said, you have risen against a false king, a king who is nothing more than the bastard product of incest. And that I cannot find fault in."

"Had you been the one to murder my father, I would have done the same." His mother's hand clutched tightly around his wrist then, a hidden warning beneath the safety of their thick cloaks but Robb did not bother to hide his bitterness towards the crimes committed against their family. "The North was free and independent once, and it will be again. I do not rebel against a tyrant king, but I instead liberate my people as we seek out justice for the wrongs against our own."

"An admirable mission, I assure you," Stannis replied, his voice dry and unfeeling. Robb does not know if it is meant to be a compliment or an insult. "But it is not your North I come to you about, nor is it my aim to acquire it once this war is through. Instead, I come to negotiate terms for peace between our houses, and an alliance that could prove beneficial to us both."

"What is it you want?" Robb asked, wasting no time and by Stannis' expression, the man seemed to respect this.

"I simply want manpower and an ally with whom I can trust to help me secure King's Landing," the Stag explained. "The capitol is not as strong as they would have you believe. I've seen the storerooms, I know how many people live in that city and one siege would bring them all to their knees."

"To lay siege you would need to take Blackwater Bay, and to take the Blackwater, you would need an entire fleet," Robb added and Stannis glanced back at him as if the Young Wolf had just overstated the obvious.

"Yes, I do indeed need a fleet, a fleet which I already command," he replied.

"It seems we have not only a common enemy, but a common goal. What I need from you, is a fleet of my own. I need those ships to take Lannisport, to lay siege of my own. I do not need your bannermen if that is what you came to offer me."

It is then that Robb saw the corner of Stannis' mouth twitch ever-so-slightly, so fleeting that he thought he'd imagined it. His mother stood like a statue at his side, hardly breathing as she stood there, her defiant eyes watching him suspiciously and her nails still digging anxiously into his arm.

Stannis glanced slightly to his right, catching the eye of the woman who watched Robb so carefully and she nodded in some silent assent. Stannis pulled his hands over his chest, crossing his arm as he took in a long breath and then took a few steps in Robb's direction.

"I can give you ships, enough to take Lannisport, to tear Casterly Rock to the ground should you so wish," he offered.

"These same ships you need to take King's Landing. You would split your fleet?"

"No, certainly not my ships," he amended quickly. "I need my entire fleet to take King's Landing." Robb sighed in frustration. He was about to tell Stannis that he was leading them in circles, that their parlay was clearly only a waste of his time. But then, as if sensing Robb's patience dwindling, he spoke again. "My eldest daughter commands a fleet of her own, seventy-five ships and a thousand of my men under her charge."

Robb stared at the man for several moments before speaking. The numbers alone where more than enough, unstoppable if Theon was able to convince his father as well. But still he did not fully understand the Stag's offer.

The wind was harsh around them and he could feel the icy rain pelting his flesh like small needles. His mother's auburn hair blew wilding around her head. She glanced up at him and her eyes did not seem to offer any clarification to the proposal they'd just been offered.

Robb knew the offer was not as good as Stannis' perhaps wanted it to seem. Ships would aid Robb, as would the men, but there was no assurance that once the war was over, and Casterly Rock was won, that Stannis' fleet would not simply turn on him, the Northern Rebel, the Pretender King.

"I am not sure I understand," he admitted and even his mother wore her confusion on her aging features. "You want me to let your daughter command a fleet of your ships to aid my cause, and in return I support your campaign on King's Landing? What makes you think I can trust this alliance? That the moment we both cry victory your men will not have me in chains."

"No, Young Wolf. You misunderstand. As I have already said, I do not want your North. I am willing to sacrifice that for the greater good of these Kingdoms. I want an alliance. Baratheon and Stark have always been friends and it is time they finally sealed their friendship."

Though his words did not say it, Stannis' proposition was now clear. It was clear to Robb who felt his stomach clench as it had several weeks prior at the Twins, and it was clear to his mother, whose confusion had now morphed into a strong disapproval over her harsh downturned mouth.

"You cannot mean marriage?" she spoke, speaking what Robb could not. Her voice rose with all the frustration she had acquired, her fury finally breaking free in front of the Stag King. "Our family has no one left to barter. My daughters are held hostage at King's landing, my eldest son already betrothed himself to a Frey in order to take back the Riverlands. My younger son is paralyzed and will never walk again, let alone father children. Now you would have my youngest son, a boy of only five years?"

It was Robb's turn to grab hold of her, steadying her with his hand on her shoulder as she shouted, the emotions rising in her throat. But Robb knew that Rickon was not who the King had his eyes set on. The three figures in front of him all stared back, eyeing Robb hungrily.

"Perhaps you have not heard of my betrothal until now," Robb interrupted when he thought his mother might continue. "Once the war is over, I will take one of Lord Walder Frey's daughters as my wife and queen."

"Would you take your Frey girl over the future Queen on the Iron Throne?" It is the man next to Stannis who spoke next. "Stannis Baratheon is the rightful heir to the Kingdoms. His daughter will inherit everything."

"When I die," Stannis added. "Selene will lay claim to these lands. And as her husband and consort, so will you."

Robb didn't like it. It was an tempting offer, to be sure. But it would mean trusting a man who most likely murdered his own brother to ensure his succession. He thought of Jon then, of Rickon and poor Bran and how no crown was more important than their lives. The Baratheons were dwindling away, only daughters and bastard sons left to carry on their bloodlines. But soon their name would be dead.

No matter how hard Stannis fought to be King, he would never be able to reverse that unless he produced a son.

With a Baratheon as his queen he would have more power than he desired, more power than he could handle. The kind of power that kings were killed for. And he didn't want it. But he also could not refuse it without gaining a possible enemy. A meeting out of courtesy had soon turned into a careful line which he was balancing dangerously. If he wasn't careful, he could gain an enemy he could not afford.

He looked to his mother, his only source of guidance, the woman who had insisted he not take answer the invitation offered by the Stag. But they had come and a deal was in front of them. He just needed to know if should take it. He pulled her to the side, excusing himself from Stannis and his company and he held each of her shoulders in his hand.

"Mother," he whispered. "Even if I agreed to such a pact, I am bound by my pact to Lord Frey."

"You are right," she agreed. "I know Lord Frey to be a very proud man. Going back on your word may gain you a deadly enemy and we are in no place to lose the support we have garnered thanks to him."

"But you agree that Stannis is an even deadlier enemy?" he asked and she reluctantly nods.

"I am afraid of that woman," she admitted, glancing out of the corner of her eye where the woman in the red cloak stood with her head high, whispering to her King. "I saw the evils she can conjure. And I fear what that man would do to ensure his success."

"But he is the rightful heir," Robb reminded her. "While I do not agree with his tactics, I cannot deny that he should be on the throne, his birthright."

"Yes, perhaps he should. But the Baratheons have only caused pain for House Stark. Robert dragged your father into battle after battle until their youth was ruined. War changed your father, Robb. Do not believe that once this war is over that there won't be more battles, more uprisings that he will coerce you into. Once your blood is joined by marriage, your house with his, you will be his to control, King or not."

"And so I should refuse him?" Robb pondered in a hushed whisper but Catelyn did not answer right away. She had reservations, just as he did, about refusing Stannis and about the offer that was so close within their grasp. It was a risk. Either choice would be a risk.

She shook her head, not in disagreement but in uncertainty.

"You're honor is at stake here Robb. You must tread carefully. The decision you make will change loyalties. Your honor will be questioned," she advised, her hand on his cheek and for a moment he thought his decision had been made in those words. "But you sought out to avenge your father, to get your sisters back and to protect your home. If you want to win this war, you cannot do this alone. But I cannot make this choice for you."

And suddenly the decision was no longer as easy as honor. He had a duty to his father who died to preserve the truth, his sisters who were innocent pawns in the Lannister's sick game, and to his bannermen who had followed him loyally into battle again and again, who had named him King in the North.

He was the King in the North. It was time he started acting like it.

"What of Lord Frey," Robb questioned, his voice steady as he returned to stand before Stannis who seemed to be waiting, his expression no longer cold, but impatient. "How do I keep his loyalty if I go back on my word?"

"Lord Frey will find himself richly rewarded to his loyalty to both our crowns," Stannis replied. "I will see to that."

"And your daughter," his mother insisted quickly. "Is she a maid?" The question was one he had not thought to ask himself and he was thankful he had not had to. "My son and the King in the North will not risk his alliances to marry a sullied woman, no matter her status."

Stannis seemed insulted by the question, but also as if he had expected it. Though perhaps not in so many words.

"My daughter's maidenhead is her most guarded virtue. I can assure you, she is chaste and untouched," he answered and his mother seemed appeased by his answer. He wondered briefly if she had asked the same in Lord Frey's keep. He wondered if Old Walder's daughters had blushed pink at her forward question.

Robb looked down the hill towards a group of horses and their riders. Only a handful of his soldiers were gathered, watching carefully at the interaction between the two kings. The man on Stannis' left reached for a long sheet of parchment, rolled under his arm and offered it to his right.

"You will find all that my King promised in this contract," he spoke, his voice deep and deliberate. "Should you agree, your signature will bind you to the Princess Selene in your betrothal and we will move forward with a wedding on an agreed upon time at an agreed upon location."

"The wedding will be at your earliest convenience," said the woman, and Robb was surprised at the way her voice danced over him so easily. "We see no need to wait for the war to come to an end."

Robb took the parchment, pulling it out from its rolled form and glanced over the words as she spoke. There was an obvious reason they wanted to rush the marriage vows. They wanted to ensure that Robb did not find a better offer and choose to marry another stranger for the sake of this war. But they thought very little of him if they believed that was his character. Then again, he thought, perhaps that was his character now.

He took his time going over the document, taking it down to his own company and having each of his bannermen look over it for flaws, for chokeholds that would refuse Robb his right to rule the North once the war was over, once he was married to a Baratheon bride. But the contract was only straightforward. A marriage for an alliance. Stark men for Baratheon ships. A dowry a king would be foolish to refuse.

When he approached the king and his men, he motioned for a pen and ink and under the supervision of the four witnesses, he signed the betrothal contract, right above a neat and looped signature that read, 'Selene Baratheon.'

As he handed it over, he could not help his curiosity when he asked, "Why would she sign it without having met me, without knowing the terms which we have altered?" he questioned and Stannis glanced over Robb's name before wrapping it up carefully in his hand. Without looking up at him, he gave his answer.

"My daughter knows her duty. She knows what is expected of her. And she knows what is best for our houses."

It was as simple as that for the Stag King. Baratheon duty and Stark duty, compromised for the sake of the other. For the sake of this war. When he was sure Robb's curiosity would not afford more lost time or pointless questions, he motioned to his man who handed him something wrapped carefully in black cloth. He held it out towards Robb, pulling back the cloth as he did so to reveal a weapon, a dagger to be specific. It was a handsome dagger with a hilt made of solid gold. Black jewels and intricate designs covered the blade handle and Robb was certain he'd never seen its equal.

"A gift," Stannis says simply. "From your future wife."

Robb took it in his hand and let his fingers graze over the hilt. It was then he realized what this tradition was. It was often customary in Southern Houses for brides and husbands to share a kiss at the signing of their betrothal contract. It was a seal, a promise which he had only made through his mother's words at the Twins.

But this promise was not made with a kiss or with words. He did not gaze upon his bride-to-be as he pledged himself to her. Instead, she gifted him a most prized possession. And there he stood with nothing to offer her in return.

He looked down at his waist, as if something would materialize out of no where. But he had nothing, his sword and his armor, a small insignificant knife on his belt. He did not even have any adornments on his breastplate that he could pry off and give as a meager offering to a princess who would one day have jewels as far as her eyes could see.

And then he felt a small nudge and turned to see his mother pulling something off her right hand, a small piece of jewelry that he would recognize anywhere. A ring. It had once belonged to a Stark ancestor, he could not remember which one, at his own betrothal ceremony, his father had presented it to his mother.

"Mother, I can't-" he started to say but she grabbed his hand and placed it in his palm, wrapping his fingers around the silver band with the sparkling grey stone.

"Take it," she insisted. "You cannot send them back to your future wife empty handed."

She wore a small smile, a sad one as she tried not to glance down at the ring that had once represented something so important to her. She nodded once and then turned away and Robb felt guilt give way to a grateful heart.

He turned and presented it to Stannis. He stared at the item for many moments before nodding and his man reached out and Robb dropped it in his hand. He and Stannis stared at one another, each waiting for the other to react before Robb decided to make his first move and he reached his arm out to the Stag. He only hesitated briefly before returning Robb's sentiment but it was clear the man did not indulge in much physical contact. And so just as he was the first to reach out, Robb was the first to break away.

And a pact was made.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the second chapter! I am trucking right along so far. Thank you to those of you who have left reviews, followed and even favorited already. And thank you to those who even simply took the time to check out my words. It's always greatly appreciated. Thanks everyone!


	4. Chapter Three

****| Chapter Three |****

* * *

SELENE

She had heard somewhere, from her mother maybe or perhaps her Septa, that rain on one's wedding day was meant to bring good fortune for a marriage. Most likely that the rain represented tears of joy as the Maiden blessed the union of man and wife.

Selene could not help but disagree.

She had been sitting in the small room for hours on end, listening to the rain as it came down in sheets over old building. Somewhere in the corner there was a leak that the innkeeper had remedied with a pot that was now nearing full. Everything was damp and cold and for a brief moment she could forget where she was, as if she had been briefly transported back to her home at Storm's End.

She eyed the hem of her dress with a frown, the gold fabric damp and sullied with the soot from the hearth. She had spent several hours next to it, pacing anxiously, then furiously, when time passed and still Robb Stark had not shown up for his own wedding.

Now the dress was ruined. If she hadn't spent so long having put the damn thing on in the first place, all the tugging and tying, she would not have had any qualms with the mud or the dress at all for that matter. But the hours had passed and still she sat and still she waited, the mud on her hem rising and rising like the temper she could no longer subdue.

Her impatience did not go unnoticed.

Shireen sat by the window, not distracted by the rain or the thunder that rumbled the walls. Her nose was buried in an obnoxiously large book, one that was almost too heavy for the small girl to lift in the first place. Selene watched her, trying to soothe her fury as it rose in her chest. The girl's eyes danced over the pages eagerly with excitement in her smile.

"Listen to this Selene," she announced with cheerfulness that the elder had not known in some time. "'_Balerion's fire was used by Aegon the first to forge the Iron Throne. Its black skull_,' Balerion's of course, '_was placed on the throne room at the time of its death_.' You never mentioned that the giant skull of the _Black Dread_ was in the Red Keep."

Selene felt warmth at her sister's words, as if stories of great beasts of old were the most important things she had to worry about this day. She rose from the edge of the bed where she sat and joined her sister at the window, looking down at the pages, worn and tattered of Shireen's favorite book.

"I only saw the great beast once, though I can hardly remember it now. When Uncle Robert rose to the throne, he had all the skulls removed and brought down into the dungeons. Uncle Renly brought me down there once. I think he had hoped it would frighten me to see such things."

"Does anything actually frighten you?" her sister asked, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear and Selene frowned at the sight of something dark on her right cheek.

"Who struck you?" she asked, feeling her temper rising once again and Shireen tried to pull her hair back over the small bruise.

"No one," she insisted. "Please don't fuss over it. This is supposed to be a happy day."

"This is most assuredly the unhappiest of days," Selene corrected. "Now tell me who hit you, Shireen. Was it mother?"

When Shireen did not immediately answer as she usually did, Selene knew the bruise had come from their mother. She stood quickly but Shireen's small hand wrapped around her own to stop her.

"No don't, please," Shireen begged again, more annoyed than anything at Selene's anger. "You know how she gets. She sees us only as living reminders of her incompetence."

It was true. All their lives their mother made them very aware of her disappointment in their gender. The woman's own inability to produce a male heir had driven her mad with disdain for her own children. As a child, Selene remembered every single one of her mother's miscarriages, all boys that would have been Stannis Baratheon's heirs. And after each was found stillborn, she would look at Selene in disgust.

"Father would not like it," Selene said sternly. "If he knew what she was doing-"

"Father has more to worry over than me," she reminded her older sister who only shook her head in frustration. "I can take care of myself. You may be brave, dear sister, but it is I who knows how to control my Baratheon temper. And I think that makes me brave too."

Shireen was only two and ten but she was already smarter and braver than Selene had ever been. They were different, yet so much alike in their demeanors that Selene often thought she was looking back in time at her own youth. But Shireen was right. Selene had never withheld her temper very well whilst her younger sister often kept it in check, hidden from their parents in a controlled and admirable manner.

She envied her that much.

She thought of Robb Stark and his tardiness and if she feared anything it at all it was what she might do when he finally did show up, if he showed up. She wanted to strangle him for keeping here her, strangle her mother for neglecting Shireen, a child who seemed not so much a child any longer. Selene always tried to mother her, but often times - moments like the present - she felt like Shireen was the one mothering her.

"I worry for you," Selene admitted and the surprise was clear on her sister's features. "Don't look so shocked, I do worry. I worry that when I leave you alone with that woman that she will be cruel to you. That my absence will only bring you pain."

Shireen closed her book then and set it beside her. She gripped both of Selene's hands in hers as she stared up at her sister with a grin that she most definitely had not inherited from their father. It made her wonder if her mother had ever been a happy woman. Even her memories, Selene could not conjure an image of her mother's lips curled back in amusement or joy.

"I will be strong, as you are. And you will write me as much as your duties will allow. Promise me," she insisted and Selene had never been one to deny her sister anything, especially a promise between sisters.

"I promise," was her whispered reply and she kissed her sister on the top of her head.

"And anyways, you will be much too busy to worry," Shireen reminded her. "You will have a husband to look after."

"Of that I am not so sure," Selene replied, allowing herself to laugh slightly in spite of her rage.

"He will take one look at you and fall in love," Shireen fantasized. "Just as Aegon the fifth saw Betha Blackwood and declared he loved her from their first glance."

"You read far too much, my dear sister. And our father would not take too fondly to hearing of your great love for stories of our Targaryen predecessors."

"We are blood relatives," she insisted. "The Targaryen bloodline is what gave our Uncle Robert claim to the throne in the first place."

"Yes but now-," Selene reminded her. "-we are in the Age of the Stag. Baratheon blood rules these lands. Do not forget your name, Shireen. _Ours is the Fury_, remember that."

Her sister nodded but it was clear she was no longer listening. She was back to her book and her nose buried in tales of heroism and romance. She couldn't fault the younger girl. There were days when Selene too had fantasized about the days of old and the dragons that roamed the skies. She told Shireen that now was the Age of the Stag but they both knew that era would be short-lived. Without a male heir, the Baratheon line would cease to exist. Their bloodline would continue only in the names of their husbands until the Stag was a house long forgotten, written into a book that was more legend than truth.

There was a commotion outside the inn, and Selene leaned over her sister to see a crowd outside in the rain. Off in the distance there were horses, she could barely make out the sigil, a grey banner with the head of a direwolf emblazoned upon it.

The King in the North had arrived.

* * *

ROBB

He was late.

So extraordinarily late that he wasn't even surprised when a stout woman with a frazzled expression came out of the inn, wringing her hands, and informed him that Selene Baratheon refused to see him.

Late for his own wedding.

Of course she was angry, he thought. But he wasn't overly pleased either. He shouldn't have to remind some childish girl that he was in the middle of a war. Battles took priority every time. He had men to keep alive and morale to keep from crumbling. She was lucky he was coming at all, he thought during his two day ride through what seemed like a never ending shroud of rain.

He was wet and cold and the first thing he wanted to do was take a hot bath and eat a warm meal. But no, he had to hear about the displeasure of a spoiled princess. He had made it to Pinkmaiden, at the agreed upon day. Sure it was dark by the time he arrived in the small inn on the corner of the village town. But what did that matter now?

He was exhausted and preferred to get the wedding over with as soon as possible. He had rode non stop in the rain for this woman, men laughing at his side, joking about the Baratheon beast he was to bed. They'd told him tales of her greyscale, how it distorted her face. He knew the stories were meant to worry him, which was why he didn't pay much heed in what they said.

But he had also never heard any tales of Selene's exceptional beauty. In fact, he knew very little of his bride-to-be at all. He knew Stannis Baratheon had two daughters, that his eldest one had been born before Robert's Rebellion and survived the Siege of Storm's End. Robb told himself it did not matter. That he had sold himself to the highest bidder and Selene Baratheon would be his wife for all his days to come. What did it matter what she looked like?

But he could not help but feel a twisting in his stomach every time they mentioned her distorted face and her childlike figure. The thought of the wedding night alone was enough to make his anxiety flare. He would vow his fidelity to his wife, he had always known this. But he had always thought his wife would be of his choosing, that despite his status he would find a woman of both beauty and of spirit. Never had he pictured himself here, on the edge of a village about to pledge his soul to a stranger. He wished they were in the North. He thought if he were home, in the comfort of Winterfell that he might feel more at ease than he currently did.

He stood in a room, fairly small, on the second floor of the inn. His only company was Stannis, his wife and Robb's mother. No one spoke as the fire crackled nearby and the thunder continued to roar outside the window. There was only silence as Robb tried to warm himself but his clothes were soaked through, something that was only exacerbating his impatience.

Selyse Florent was not a handsome woman by any means. But something about her demeanor commanded his attention. She eyed him curiously in direct contrast to her husband who seemed more preoccupied in the flames dancing on the hearth rather than the man who was mere moments away from marrying his daughter.

Robb almost spoke, but then thought better of it when he realized he had nothing of interest to say. His mother tried not to shiver as she stood in her wet garments, her dress soaked from hem to the clasp on her neck. But she was cold, as was he, and both were growing tired of waiting for this wedding they had rode two days to attend.

"If you would just let me talk to her-," Selyse began in a hushed mutter. Her voice was too harsh to whisper. "That selfish child-"

"Enough," he scolded in return, his whisper more concealed than hers had been but still loud enough that Robb and Catelyn exchanged silent looks. The woman shifted, impatiently when the door opened and in walked a small girl of rather small stature with her chin held high and half of her face discolored as he had heard it would be.

Shireen.

"Father," she spoke eloquently, her gaze meeting Robb's only briefly before walking up to Stannis with a bit of parchment in her hands. She then turned, and curtsied in Robb's direction.

"What are you doing down here?" her mother questioned, her tone stern and disapproving. "I was told you'd been sent to bed."

"Leave her be, Selyse," Stannis instructed and once again his wife shifted at her husband's scolding.

His eyes traveled quickly over the parchment and Robb watched as he sighed, sounding as frustrated as Robb felt, and then he excused himself from the room. Shireen, however, did not budge, even when her mother gave her a disapproving glare. She just turned and looked across the cramped room at Robb and grinned.

"Your Grace, it is an honor to meet you," she beamed and when she stepped towards him, Selyse placed her wiry fingers on the child's shoulder, pulling her back.

"The honor is mine as well, Princess," he replied, his tone emitting none of the agony he currently felt.

"Can we expect your daughter any time this evening?" Catelyn questioned towards the taller woman. Robb could hear the impatience in his mother's voice. She was reaching her limit.

"Your son, My Lady, has kept us waiting for some time. My daughter has been waiting all day for her groom. I think His Grace can allow her a few moments of her own, to refresh herself," the woman defended. He could not tell if it was kind what the woman was doing for her daughter, or merely her own agitation rising to it's limit as well.

"It might hurry things along if you were to-" the child started looking at Robb with a lifted eyebrow. He tried not to stare at the grey side of her face. "-maybe wash. A bit?" she suggested and Robb was sure he looked quite taken aback. "My sister has been waiting some time, after all, and did put forth the effort to look nice for His Grace."

"Shireen!" her mother scolded, aghast at her daughter's forwardness. "Leave us. Now!"

The girl grinned as she did as her mother asked, eyeing Robb's clothes and giving him a knowing look. He thought of Arya then and her mischevious grin and wondered if her suggestion was meant to be a hint at the reason for his bride's absence.

Catelyn looked at her son, and Robb caught her glancing over his figure and he thought he saw her grin as well a she cocked her head to the side. He looked down at his hands, noting that they were still filthy from battle. He could not see his face, but he assumed, from his mother's expression, that it was even less appealing.

"You know-," she whispered in his ear as she leaned it. "-perhaps the child has a point."

* * *

STANNIS

She was defiant and steadfast, a true Baratheon in her stature. Though she had the Baratheon hair and eyes, he had always thought Selene reminded him more of his mother. Though Cassana Estermont was renowned for her patience while Selene was always deterred by her temper. A Baratheon trait he shared, as had Robert.

But she would not falter as she stood there. Not for him, he thought. He leaned back in his chair, the small faded clothed chair that sat in the corner of the room nearest to the fire. When she moved her gaze to the window, Stannis took the opportunity to stare up at Davos who stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for instruction. _Convince her_, his eyes persuaded and Davos did not need further explanation before he stepped forward.

"Princess," he began. "We are all aware that Robb Stark has insulted you by arriving in the state that he has." It wasn't how Stannis would have gone about it at all. They all knew Selene's anger was not directed towards the Young Wolf's appearance. But it had not helped by any means. However, Selene did not scoff, as she might have to Stannis. Instead she stayed silent and let the man speak. "But we must also take into account that we have asked him to abandon his men, amidst his campaign against the Westerlands, in order to wed you, two days ride from where his army awaits his return."

"I am not a foolish child, Ser Davos," she reminded him, though her glance was directed at her father. "I understand the importance of his war. But had he simply had the forethought to send word, I would not have been sitting around in my wedding garments for an entire day, humiliated when the people announced Robb Stark had left his bride at the altar. And then, when he finally does find it in his interest to arrive, he intends me to wed and bed him while he is covered in filth? I apologize if you think my behavior naive, but I expected better of a man I have only heard described as honorable. Was I foolish to expect him to treat me as though he is marrying the future Queen to the Iron Throne? Instead he treats me like another obstacle for his war. What kind of ally will he be if he can't even be trusted to arrive to his own wedding in a timely matter."

Stannis would have laughed had he known how. His daughter was full of fire, that had always been apparent. But she was not wrong. Robb Stark was marrying the future Queen and his negligence of her had made him simmer with impatience as well. He pitied the boy king, knowing Selene's grudge would not be easily subdued.

"Some advice? If I may?" Davos asked and Selene took in a deep sigh, holding it tightly in her lungs before purging it out and nodding her head slowly. "Forgive him this slight. Start your marriage on a happy note. You and the boy will have many days to argue but your wedding day ought not be one of them." She was watching him now, her eyes focused on his eyes and his words, and Stannis watched as Selene's icy gaze started to thaw, if only slightly.

Davos placed his hands on her shoulders then and kissed her cheek. Stannis felt a pang deep within him somewhere and he glanced away. Davos had always been the only one who could reason with his daughter. Selene's bullheaded ways were always met with his own. And often, even through logic and discussion they would end up in a shouting match, one way or another. But with Davos she allowed his opinion to matter. Just as she would now.

Davos left the room then and Stannis stood so he was standing across from his daughter. Her eyes were lost in thought as she most likely was deciding if she should forgive the Young Wolf or not. But when her eyes finally focused, they met his and he thought the girl in front of him was no longer the stubborn daughter who had grown to be too much like him, but instead she was the child on the steps of the dungeon staircase at Storm's End, her eyes pleading with him to protect her. She was not just angry.

She was scared.

He swallowed as his chest twinged once again and he allowed himself to step closer until he was looking down at her. Slowly, he placed his hands on her arms and then wrapped them around her back, pulling her to him in one soft movement.

They were both stiff, neither moved as they stood there without words, neither used to the contact. He could not remember the last time he'd held her, not like he used to. Shireen still craved his attention, grabbed hold of him with her childlike spirit. But Selene had not been a child for many years. She had seen too much, been entrusted with too much. She had hardly been a child even in her youth.

But then, as if she that child once more, she placed her head against his chest and let her arms snake around him and grip him tightly. Once again she was his firstborn, prized and protected in his grasp. Selyse had spent so much time dwelling in her disappointment at failing to produce him an heir, that she had not realized how proud he was the day Selene was born.

She had been beautiful, pink-faced and wide-eyed and a temper even then. But she was his. Just as she was now. Soon to be no longer.

He placed his lips to the top of her hair, trying his best to memorize this feeling. And then he pulled her back. Her eyes were damp and she tried to avoid his gaze. But they soon sought his out for reassurance and he gave her a small nod. He wiped her eyes and held his hand over her cheek and wished he could smile for her then.

And then she was ready.

* * *

ROBB

At some point the rain had slowed to a steady drizzle, so soft that it was like a mist that floated down from the clouds. He thought for a moment it was snow, and as he stood beneath the Heart Tree, he found himself smiling and thinking of home.

It had been Selene's suggestion, he'd been told by Ser Davos, when Robb asked why they stood beneath a weirwood. She had insisted that their wedding appease his Northern customs. Robb felt a rush of guilt when he'd heard this but thought perhaps this cold, impatient woman of his would be kinder than he'd initially expected.

He had only seen her briefly, through the rain and through a window at the top of the inn when he'd arrived and he could make out nothing except her disapproving frown. Now as he watched her approach, he was certain it was a different figure he'd seen. She was not at all scarred or afflicted as his men had warned. The closer she stepped, on the arm of her father, the more clearly he saw that there was very little flaw in her complexion at all. In fact, Robb found himself pleasantly surprised at her appearance.

There was enough light, provided by the torches held by his guards, that he could make out most of her as she came closer to his side. She was not an exceptional beauty, but she has many pleasing features. Her eyes were a dark blue, steady like her father's but alight with a spirit he was quickly becoming familiar with. Her lips were a faint pink, like her cheeks though she tried to hide it when she lowered her head.

He wasn't sure why the thought pleased him, that she might be anxious when she saw him. He could see she was surprised as well when their eyes met briefly. She had only seen him covered in mud and filth and now she was seeing him as Robb Stark, a man and not a soldier. He wanted to thank Shireen and so he smiled when he saw her not far from her mother's side and she did not bother to hide her own smile in return.

It was when Stannis and Selene were just before him that the Maester spoke.

"My Lady," the man said, his voice louder than his age might suggest it would be. "Is it true that you come here today under your own free will and accord?"

Robb could not help but look at his bride's reaction as she tightened her lips and nodded.

"Yes, it is true," she replied, her voice strong. Robb found it a welcome sound.

"With whom do you come, and whose blessings do accompany you?"

"It is I, King Stannis, of the House Baratheon, her father. And she is accompanied by the blessings of myself and her family."

The customs were of the North, and she could see the Red Woman standing off to the side with a slightly sour expression at the whole affair. He had heard of Stannis' new religion, a religion Robb knew almost nothing about. But it seemed as though Selene had very little concern for it and in fact from what little he knew of her, he could safely assume she might have chosen a Northern ceremony both for his comfort and to spite her father's new priestess.

"Your Grace," the Maester said then, looking in his direction and Robb took his eyes from his bride and glanced at the man. "Please cloak your bride and bring her under your protection."

Robb did as he was told, turning and looking only briefly at his mother's emotional eyes before reaching around her to where the Greatjon stood, cloak in hand and handed it to Robb. He was glad it was not wet and glad his mother had the forethought to wrap it up neatly when Robb had not even bothered to think of it at all.

Robb stepped towards Selene then, and draped the grey and silver cloak over her shoulders. She did not bother to even glance at him as he did so, simply lowering her head slightly and pushing her hair forward so the fabric would not pin it down.

Stannis moved then, pulling back his daughter's hair in a surprisingly tender motion before taking her hand and placing it in Robb's. Their eyes met, not just king to king, but father to the man his daughter was marrying. The sternness in his eyes was different this time, not quite a warning, but instead full of expectation. Robb nodded to him because it was all he could think to do. And then they glanced back at the Mester who smiled with kindness.

"Today we have come, in the sight of the Old Gods in this holy place, beneath the symbol of this Heart Tree, to bind this man and this woman, two households, in the sacred bond of marriage," he paused and Robb felt himself take a deep breath, aware of the fingers lightly laid across his palm. "Your Grace, is it your wish to take this woman as your wife, as your family and as our blood, and do you vow to the Old Gods to keep her under your protection until death does part you?"

Robb could feel the weight of this moment on his chest. The promise he had broken to Lord Frey, the risk he was taking in his alliance with Stannis. He could feel his mother by his side, supporting him and he wished only for his father, to see him there as well, smiling proudly as he had so many times before. But he was gone. And it was part of that which reminded him why this union was so necessary. He may have not wanted a wife, not in this way at least. Not yet. But with his vows he would be one step closer to avenging his father and protecting his people.

"Yes," he said finally. "It is my wish."

"And My Lady, is it your wish, to take this make as your husband, as your family and as your blood, and do you vow to the Old Gods to keep him and serve him until death does part you?"

Her hesitation was much shorter than his. And he was certain it was not so much her anger in him that gave her pause, but the words in which she was meant to agree to. They were different than his as they were for all women. And he could understand her distaste for them. But there was only a slight flicker of annoyance before she spoke.

"Yes, it is my wish," she answered.

The Maester looked then to Catelyn and then to Stannis who both, after instruction, took out individual lengths of silk. He watched as Stannis wrapped the silk ribbon of black and gold around Selene's hand and then Robb's. His mother followed suit, wrapping a grey silk ribbon over his hand and finally Selene's binding them together.

Robb stared down at her hand then, taking note of the ring on her finger that had once belonged to his mother and was now his gift to her. The jewel sparkled as the light of the fire flickered over it. He wondered off-handedly if she had noticed her dagger on his belt.

"Now, let you both say the words, your vows which will hold as your promise to one another and the gods."

That was the part where they were meant to turn and Robb felt a twisting in his stomach that had been there since he saw her. He had not noticed it until now, as their eyes met and he could see immediately that his apology would be needed before she would let down her wall of indignation.

"Do you know the words?" he whispered so only she would hear and she nodded. He swallowed, harder than he meant to and then he gripped her other hand in his. "I, Robb of the House Stark, King in the North and of the Trident-"

"And I, Selene of the House Baratheon, Princess of the Kingdoms of Westeros,-"

And then in perfect unison, Robb keeping their pace, they spoke together.

"-do take thee as mine own, as my blood and as my bone. Let my body belong to you, my spirit make us one. By the gods, I am yours and your are mine, from this day, until my last."

"Now, let you, this day to your last, remember that it is the gods who sanction this marriage and it is in their name and with their blessing that I do proclaim you man and wife. May your love endure that its flame remains a guiding like until you," the old man smiled fondly at the both of them and then turned towards Robb. "Your Grace, you may kiss your bride."

They were powerful words, words that he had never intended to speak unless he meant them. And therefore he knew he meant them. This woman was his wife and he would no longer see her as the bargaining chip between kings. He had vowed to protect her, to give her his body and his spirit from this day until his last. And it was a promise he would keep.

Her eyes were full of something very different as he leaned in, and he felt as if he was holding his breath as he placed his lips over hers. He meant for it to be quick, a chaste kiss that would not embarrass either of them before the large crowd of nearly fifty. But once he felt her lips pressed against his own, the soft flesh of their mouths bound as one, he knew it would not be such an easy feat.

He was not sure which one of them removed themselves first, or if they had done it at the same time, but soon her eyes moved away from his as the people around them cheered with excitement.

And when the cold mist replaced the warmth of her hand in his, he felt a sinking in his stomach that was foreign and he was certain it was a feeling that would live to plague him the rest of his days.

* * *

A/N: I am so pleased by the response I have received on this story already. I am beyond thrilled that you are enjoying reading it and I hope each chapter lives up to your expectations. Thank you and please continue to leave feedback as you see fit! Thanks, Lola.


	5. Chapter Four

**| Chapter Four |**

* * *

SELENE

She was expected down in the dining hall of the tavern below the inn, sitting next to her husband with a virginal blush and wine stained lips. But instead she was standing in the small room drying her hair and allowing her mother to help her dress.

It was an odd predicament. Selene had been surprised that her mother had come at all to the wedding with how little they had spoken since her return to their household. Selene was the first born child of her mother's womb and yet their interactions often made them seem like perfect strangers.

Not now, however, Selene noted as her mother tied the strings of the simple gown of grey silk. They did not speak to one another, the silence more painful than the woman's presence. They stood there, only acknowledging silent body language that instructed Selene where to step and when to breathe. And despite the tension that great between them, Selene would be lying if she said she hadn't hoped for a moment alone with her mother.

She wasn't sure how to say it, and Selene preferred to be a little more cunning with her words. But what she wanted to ask, she knew very little about let alone how to broach the topic to a mother who was as warm as a winter's storm. But she had no other options and she had once discovered when she couldn't figure out how to say something, the best tactic was always to just be blunt.

"Mother," she whispered and Selyse's hands tugged hard at the strings of the gown, causing Selene to suck in an unintentional gasp. "Mother," she tried again. "I was just curious, if you might explain to me-" she began, trailing off at the end when she started to lose her nerve.

She had hoped her mother would catch on to Selene's attempt at conversation, but the woman only remained silent for several moments as she configured a bow to keep her strings tied tightly together at the middle of Selene's back.

"It's just that-" Selene started when she thought her mother was deliberately ignoring her but she was thankfully interrupted.

"You want to know what is expected of you, at the bedding," her mother filled in. It was a dull statement, as if it were a simple question with a simple answer and Selene was foolish for not understanding it.

The fact of the matter was, Selene was already nearly two and twenty. She was somewhat older than the girls she had known in King's Landing, girls who were already with child for the second or third time. But despite her natural curiosity, she had never fully understood all things that went on between a man and a woman.

She was a stranger to sex, or at least not the idea of it. She of course knew how it worked, the mechanics of a man and a woman joined beneath the sheets. But she did not know the expectations a man had of a woman on their wedding night. She was still a maid. How could she be expected to know how to please a man when she had barely even touched a man?

"Very little, I assure you," her mother insisted, sitting on the edge of the bed and not towering over her daughter for the first time in a long while. "Your husband will take your maidenhead, as all husbands do," she began and already Selene felt as though she was sick with worry. "Your responsibility is first and foremost to be a willing wife. You might not please him the first time but ultimately make it your goal to see that your husband is pleased."

"And what, pleases a man?" she asked and she felt her cheeks grow hot. She cursed her naivety when it came to men. She was a strong woman, capable of leading a fleet of ships should it be necessary. But her knowledge of a marriage bed was sparse. "What is it that a man wants from his wife?"

"A man wants a submissive wife," her mother answered as if it were obvious. "Be willing and submissive, Selene, and you will indeed please your husband."

She expected something more, something, anything that would help her ease the anxiety currently pulsing through her veins. She was still angry, still insulted by the Young Wolf's actions from earlier that day. But knowing she would have to be with him, let him touch in a manner that she had never shared with anyone, infuriated her more. She had no desire to look foolish on top of it all.

Selyse cloaked Selene in Robb's marriage cloak, clasping it around her shoulders and adjusting the bottom so most of it wouldn't drag. It was still slightly damp, she noticed, but she did not want to start off her wedding night on an even worse insult.

"Not to worry child," she whispered, her hands on Selene's shoulders. "I have heard your young King in the North is as pure as you are. I have no doubts that it will be over quickly."

She didn't know if that was a comforting thought or not as she watched her mother leave the room. Selene pondered this thought as she followed, making her way down into the belly of the tavern where men were drunk in celebration and but mostly in wine.

Across the room, the man she was to call husband, sat at a long table, a vacant seat on his left where she was meant to sit. She felt her steps growing heavier and heavier the closer she came. Men would stop and stare at her for a brief moment before returning to their cups or their whores. Finally, it was the King in the North's eyes which traveled upwards over her new attire and let show a small grin in the corner of his mouth.

Her mother had said the grey would please him. It seemed it had.

He stood then, clumsily at first and then slowed his movements so that he was more poised and regal when he pulled the chair out from the table and helped her into her seat. She had never sat so close to someone during a meal, though she was in no mindset for eating now as she eyed the glass of wine in front of her. She knew better than to indulge herself on an empty stomach. But she also knew the calming effects of a good wine. Despite her protesting, she took the goblet in her hand and reached for the pitcher to pour herself a drink.

Her hand was met with Robb's, however, and she was startled by the contact.

"May I, My Lady?" he offered, raising the pitcher from the table, his eyes bright blue and questioning and she could not help herself as she nodded.

She watched as he poured her wine, the liquid almost too slow as it left it's post and fell elegantly into the goblet. He did not fill it to the brim, just about halfway as if he had heard her thoughts as loudly as spoken words. She nodded swiftly in brief gratitude and then turned her attention back to her cup which she then placed to her lips. He did not attempt to speak again until she had set it down.

"I have not yet had a chance to speak with you alone," he began and the sound of his voice was softer than she remembered. Her eyes stayed carefully trained on the food on her plate though she had no intentions of eating it. "It has been a long day, for the both of us, and I would like nothing more than to reconcile these tensions that have set us both on edge."

She liked the taste of her wine, she decided and the warmth that grew in her stomach with each subsequent sip. But she also found his voice warming, a deep Northern burr in his pronunciation that made it very difficult to keep her eyes focused steadily on the plate below.

"What I am trying to say, and rather poorly in fact," he continued. "is that I have wronged you with my insensitivity and arrogance. And I would beg for your forgiveness if you are willing to give it."

Willing. She remembered the word as her mother said it. And now Robb Stark was asking if she was willing. Though she was sure it had an entirely separate meaning in this manner. But she could hear it again and again. 'A man wants a willing wife' and 'if you are willing to give it'. His voice drowned out the awful passionless tone that belonged to her mother. Instead she could only hear him, asking for her forgiveness and she wondered if that would please him.

She _was_ supposed to please him, after all.

She allowed herself to glance up at him from behind her cup and he grinned when she set it down and his eyes caught sight of her stained lips. His hand twitched slightly, as though he might reach out and attempt to wipe her lips with his thumb. But he paused, an action which relieved her greatly.

She still didn't know how she felt about Robb Stark's proximity to her and his apology still did not erase the lingering anger she felt towards him. She certainly was not ready for him to touch her, not so soon after their intimate encounter beneath the weirwood. No, she decided. She would keep her distance from him until she was forced to touch him again. She realized the irony of it all. The night was already leading them both in a very obvious direction and it seemed nothing, not even her nerves or reservations, would bring time to a halt.

The moment came where she was supposed to forgive him. She could see his expression, awaiting her response, real words directed at him for the first time that weren't their wedding vows. But the more she tried to conjure words of forgiveness and grace, the longer she sat there, trying not to fold under his river blue eyes.

Ser Davos had said to forgive him. To start their marriage on a happy note. She thought of her father and mother and could not remember a time when either of them had been anything but miserable. Their constant bickering. They hardly ever even glanced at the other. She did not want that. He may not have been her ideal husband, but he was her husband all the same.

She subdued her Baratheon temper as she opened her mouth to speak.

"I am, in fact, willing to accept your apology, Your Grace."

His hand twitched again, but stayed put as it had before.

"You don't have to call me that, Selene," he said, his voice low. "You and I are equals and I should think it only fair that we treat one another as such."

She felt her brows furrow at his words and she knew she must have looked more surprise than she had intended. But she was, in fact, taken aback by his statement. _Equals_. She had never thought she would marry someone who would consider her an equal in anything. Men were proud creatures, she had learned, but Robb Stark was already proving to contradict everything she knew about men, however little that was.

"Yes," she agreed, perhaps too eagerly.

She felt her cheeks flush and she cursed her body for reacting so quickly to the wine. She quickly tried to hide it by looking away, towards the crowd of men where no one seemed to notice them at all. It was late and Shireen had been sent to bed shortly after the ceremony. Her father was seated at a table with her mother and Lady Stark, none of whom seemed to be enjoying themselves or making any sort of eye contact.

Eventually she spotted Ser Davos, not bothering to take part in the alcohol induced stupor that had consumed most of the room. She willed him to look her way, for many moments, waiting for him to glance up from his boredom. When he finally did, she saw him smile and she did not know it was what she needed until the relief washed over her. She had not wanted this, and yet it had happened to her. Now she must make the best of it, he would tell her.

But she would need courage, she decided, reaching down for her goblet which was now very nearly empty. But before she could lift it, she felt a hand over hers, stopping it from rising. She glanced at it, the calloused palms, the fingernails which still were embedded with dirt despite the scrubbing he must have done to try and erase it. She could not force herself to look up at him until their contact had ceased and he pulled away.

"I know this is not what either of us wanted," he started and she allowed her gaze to meet his. "I cannot claim to know anything about being a husband. And I do not know what the future holds, how this war will end or what could befall you for simply being my wife," she was glad to hear that he struggled to say the word 'wife.' That this was no easier for him that it was for her. "But I did not speak those words tonight in vain. I may not have vowed to love you but I did vow to take you as my family. And I will do all in my power to be a good husband to you. I will struggle and I think we both have proven today that patience may try us in many ways. But know I would never hurt you - not with any intention, anyway."

It was a pretty speech and she knew now why his reputation was that of an honorable man. Robb Stark had married the daughter of a man who could destroy him. She had no great beauty and had very little warmth. He had taken a wife who he did not love and perhaps never would, so that he could avenge his father. A heavy price to pay. She felt her fingers curl under her palms when she briefly considered letting her fingers touch his which were so very near.

She wanted to promise him the same things, that she would try to be a good wife. But she did not even know what a good wife was. How could she conscientiously make such a vow, knowing that she could break it so easily? Robb seemed like a man who would not be appeased by a simple nod of acknowledgement. But she certainly did not like the idea of admitting her shortcomings to anyone, especially a stranger. She sighed, conflicted. The only thing she had learned about being a wife thus far, was that she was meant to please her husband. And despite her discomfort and reservations, she knew what might please him now.

She tried to appear confident.

"Thank you," she said first and it sounded too stiff even to her own ears. "I think perhaps, that while neither of us had any intentions of ending up in this position, that we can agree that our mutual goals are one in the same. Although you and I harbor no feelings for one another, as you previously said, I think we should not force ourselves to try to be something we simply are not for the sake of expectation. I should think both of us would feel more comfortable with a slower approach. We should be partners, first and foremost. If we ever plan to run these kingdoms, our two thrones with any success, then a partnership between you and I is the most important thing we can nurture. I will concede that I know very little about marriage. But I do know something about partnership and trust. And if you value them as strongly as I do, then perhaps that is as good a place to start as any."

The chatter in the room seemed non-existent to her then. The roar of the drunken laughter and clanking pints were no longer a distraction. Her heart was wild, pounding in her chest as she thought over the words she had just spoken and she was sure she sounded as cold as she sometimes felt. She was suddenly very embarrassed as she watched his reaction, his eyes focused on her for many moments, too many in fact, before cleared his throat.

"My wife, the politician," he laughed, amusement in his voice and she felt as though she was being laughed at. Instinctively she began to shut back down.

"I have offended you," she whispered curtly, turning her head to look away but his fingers pulled her chin gently back towards him.

"No," he argued quickly, shaking his head. "On the contrary, your words, I must admit, comfort me." Her eyes widened slightly. "Here I am, trying to figure out what is going on in that head of yours, thinking of words that would ease your mind of our responsibilities, and yet it is you and your logic, reminding me that our responsibilities are what tie us together, that have put me at ease instead."

"You are not displeased?" she found herself asking and he shook his head.

"Not in the least," he replied.

It was a strange feeling that took over her then, as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her chest. She had pleased him, put his mind at ease even. It was a small accomplishment, but one that had at the very least dissolved some of the tension that had been walled between them.

Of course that tension very quickly returned when she saw Lady Melisandre approaching their table and both she and Robb visibly tensed at the woman's intrusion. Her dress was unsurprisingly a deep color of red and her bright hair fell elegantly over her shoulder. Her lips were curved upwards at either end, a very staged smile Selene recognized now as the one she used when trying to seem polite. She held her hands out in front of her and bowed her head very slightly before speaking.

"Your Grace," she spoke then, a title she had only ever heard the woman direct at her father. This time it was directed at her. "I have been instructed to prepare you for the bedding ceremony."

Her nerves returned swiftly then, like a kick to the stomach. She did not know how to act now. Her so recent interaction with her husband had ended on a civil note, almost pleasant even, and now once again her mind was reeling with anxiety. This was the part she could not avoid with evasive words. She could not deflect what was going to happen, or postpone it with a childish tantrum.

Now was the moment she was not prepared for.

She stood then, unable to look back at Robb or the expression he might be wearing. She didn't want to see confidence in his eyes when she felt so vulnerable, so weak and uncertain. She feared her own reaction.

Each step came too quickly, the Red Woman's pace much too fast. She saw the men stand, raise their cups in the air and shout out in excitement. She held her head high amongst the words spoken at her and about her. She could hear their drunken insinuations, votes of confidence that she better please the King.

The bedding chambers were nothing glamorous. She had seen the small room earlier in the day and she felt underwhelmed to say the least. But when Melisandre opened the door, she was met with a very different room than she remembered. There were candles, lit upon every surface of the room that had been previously vacant. The windowsill, the mantle and the hearth were decorated with various sizes of white wax candles that had only slightly started to melt.

By the hearth there was a small table and a fur rug that had not been there before, pillows strewn across the floor as well as if the inn were magically transformed into her chambers back home, though significantly smaller. She didn't want to acknowledge that the woman had put forth the effort to make this a more comfortable experience for Selene, but when their eyes locked momentarily, she could not help but nod in gratitude.

"I thought it would make it easier," Melisandre whispered with a smile, leading her in and shutting the door behind them.

"I don't know that anything will make this easy," Selene answered and she tried to hold back the disdain she felt for the woman when she said it.

"Come by the fire, child," she beckoned.

There was a small bowl of pearly white balancing nicely on a table nearest to the fire. A cloth dangled over the side of it which Melisandre took in her hands and doused in the water inside of the bowl. Steam rose slowly and Selene felt instantly warmer at the sight of it. Since being here she had felt only cold.

Selene stood in front of the fireplace and let Melisandre undo the ties of her dress. She didn't like it, sharing this moment with the woman she had sworn to loathe. But at the same time she felt more comfortable now than she had with her own mother earlier that evening. The dress came off easily and Melisandre held it steady as she urged Selene to step out of it, followed next by her dressing gown.

Nakedness had always felt foreign to her. Selene enjoyed the warmth a dress provided, and very rarely found herself naked in anyone elses presence, even her own. Her maid had perhaps been the only one to see her without clothes since she was a babe. But Melisandre did not seem disturbed by her bare skin, nor did she seem distracted by the horrific scar down Selene back.

Selene held her arms across her chest as Melisandre took the cloth to her back, the hot water soothing the chills that had risen across her flesh. The smell was soothing, some sort of perfume or oils that accompanied the cloth. She did not ask what it was.

"You need not be modest with me, child. In my culture, we are very accustomed to the naked body," she informed her but Selene did not move her arms from their spot.

"In our culture, we are not," she reminded the woman who only laughed softly.

"Is your body you fear," Melisandre questioned. "Or is it your scar?" Selene visibly stiffened. "Apologies, I have never been a master of subtlety."

"It is an ugly scar," Selene whispered. "My mother told me to keep it hidden as not to encourage disgust in my suitors. I cannot help but agree with her."

It was a jagged crease that ran from her shoulder blade down towards the middle of her back. She had only dared to look at it a few times in a looking glass, appalled by its ugliness. She did not know if the alternative would have been any better. At least now she did not bear a mark that many deemed unclean.

Shireen had not been so fortunate. A back could be hidden beneath shifts and gowns. A face was the first thing anyone ever noticed. And she hated that her sister had to wear it while she could keep hers hidden away. Her mother had tried to fix it, given the Maester permission to experiment on Selene whilst her father was away. The result was to cut it out.

"You underestimate your beauty, Selene," Melisandre told her, turning her towards the looking glass in the corner of the room. "The Lord of Light does not think it vain to appreciate his own creations." Selene opted not to roll her eyes at the woman's comment, but she did not bother to respond either.

Selene mostly avoided her own reflection. She rejected vanity whenever possible. But as Melisandre pulled her dark hair over her shoulders, forcing Selene to take in her bare flesh from head to toe, it was clear her youthful figure might be appealing enough to satisfy her husband. Much better, of course, than the rumors he had most assuredly heard.

Her breasts were not very large, she noted, perhaps just adequate enough to fill each of her hands were she the kind of woman to check. But her hips were wide enough, curving elegantly from her waist, a quality men often craved in their wives as a sign she was ripe for bearing heirs. She tried not to let her eyes linger too long as the woman finished washing her and began plaiting the hair at her temples.

The knots in her stomach were agonizing, pulling at her with every passing moment. She glanced up at Melisandre, who was indeed breathtakingly beautiful. She had seen the way her father had looked at her, almost as if he worshiped her and while the thought angered her, Selene wondered if there was something she could glean from the mind of a woman like her. Her mother had been little to no help at all on the matter. And while she did not like Melisandre, it was obvious the woman did not waste time with discreetness.

"What is it like?," Selene blurted out before she could change her mind. "-to...bed a man?" Melisandre's hands paused as she glanced at Selene's face in the reflection. She then reached for a thin silk dressing gown hanging over a changing partition and held it out in front of her, motioning for Selene to lift her arms.

"Is this not a discussion your mother would have had with you?" she asked and Selene was already regretting she asked. Melisandre's tone was triumphant, as if she had information to offer that was so valuable that Selene would put aside her displeasure long enough to seek it out.

She let the nightgown fall over her head and hang off her shoulder slightly.

"My mother has taught me nothing on the subject," Selene admitted. "When I asked her the same question, she told me that a man wants submissiveness in a woman."

"I expect she is not completely mistaken," was as close a compliment to her mother as Melisandre dared conceed. "Though, if that is all they receive, then my dear I would not expect your husband to stay in your bed for very long. A king will find that most women would be submissive to his advances." Selene felt herself swallow uncomfortably, reassured that she really did know nothing at all.

"Then what am I do to do?" she asked cautiously. "I do not want to drive him away." Melisandre smiled.

"Child, you are lucky. Men like Robb Stark put more effort into pleasing their wives than you might expect. If you are pleased, he will - in turn - be pleased. However, your husband cannot please you if you are not open to it."

Somehow the conversation only increased her nerves.

"How can I be expected to desire intimacy from a stranger?" she asked heatedly. "I am not certain that I can enjoy the company of a man of whom I know nothing."

"Selene, you are a woman," Melisandre reminded her. "You may not have known a man before, but you cannot tell me you have not thought of it. Have you not imagined it? Making love to a man to appease the lustful desire deep within you?" The words made Selene shift uncomfortably. "With young Allard perhaps?"

"Do not speak of him." Selene meant it as a command, but it was a whisper.

"Then perhaps think of it this way. Your husband is a handsome young man. I suspect he is inexperienced if at all. But regardless, I think you will be surprised at how much he will please you. The first time is never comfortable. But do not take that as the measure of all love making. He will do everything in his power to make sure you are comfortable. All you must do is let him."

Selene considered this words and found that despite the discomfort of talk like this with a woman like her, she found them surprisingly more useful than her mother's overall dismissal of the topic.

There was noise now, rising up through the floorboards and then up the stairwell and Selene knew it was time. It was not long before Melisandre crossed the room, ready to open the door for the spectators who would want a glimpse of the bride before her bedding. But the woman stopped, just before she reached the handle and looked back at her with a smile.

"And Selene," she said, her voice firm. "End this grudge that you hold against him. He is a king and who has just won a great battle. You should praise him for it. He will make you a good ally if not a good husband. Do not hate him for doing his duty to his people. Men like Robb Stark will always place duty before love."

Selene wanted to argue that she was Robb Stark's duty as well, that his duty to his army did not necessarily outweigh his duty to their alliance. But she did not speak as Melisandre's hand closed around the handle and the door opened and then closed behind her.

And for a very brief moment she was left alone and she suddenly felt very much like a child. She realized then that this would be the last time she would feel this way. And so, before the door opened, she took one last moment to say goodbye.

* * *

A/N: Just a brief cliffhanger because this chapter was getting a bit lengthy and I wanted to keep most of the chapters around the same amount of words. I hope there was a bit of an awkward vibe going on for most of this chapter because let's be real here, Selene and Robb have just met and they have spoken barely any words to each other before they are pronounced man and wife. I had hoped this gave it a bit of a mix of lighthearted and discomfort. I wanted to paint Selene as very conflicted here, not because she finds Robb to be more attractive than she had expected, but because she is both nervous and defiant. I hope it came across how I wanted it to, if not, please feel free to say so. I am anxious to know what you guys think about this chapter and I will get writing the next one right away. I don't want to leave you hanging for too long...thanks, Lola.


	6. Chapter Five

| Chapter Five |

* * *

ROBB

He had spent nearly an entire day on the battlefield once, wielding his sword and striking down foe after foe; yet he could not remember a day where he had been so exhausted as his wedding day. The hour was beyond late and he had travelled much too far for far too long to get here at the agreed upon date. But he knew his responsibilities were still not complete.

_Wed your wife, then bed her good_, his men had teased before his departure, the morale high from their recent battle at the Oxcross. He had been in too high of spirits at the time to think anything of the words. But now, as he climbed the stairs, a hoard of drunken men and his mother by his side, they were the only words on his mind.

He had never been with a woman before and he felt as if that fact alone might be a disservice to his wife who was more nervous than she cared to admit. He could see it in her movements, her stiff voice and obvious fidgeting. Not to mention her attachment to her wine goblet.

He found it all very calming, despite the frustration he had felt for her upon his arrival. She had been cold and unnerving at first, looking very regal in her gown and her lips pressed tightly together. She was very much a queen in her demeanor then. But at the feast, she had been a young woman and he a young man, both of whom had no idea what was expected of them. For that he'd been grateful. She did not look at him with disdain for what they'd been forced into. Instead, he felt as though she was a mirror image of what he tried desperately to hide.

Simply nervous.

He had always hoped for a warm wife, one with a kind smile and a soft touch. It wasn't that Selene wasn't warm, exactly. How could he blame her for her reservation of him, a stranger? He couldn't expect more of her than he had already taken. He thought of the bedding then, and the guilt he already felt for making this such a public affair.

It had taken much convincing on his part, and the part of his mother, to ensure the privacy of the ceremony was left to Robb and his wife alone. Neither of them needed a reminder of the pressure placed upon their shoulders. Stannis had at first objected, wanting certain proof that the marriage would be consummated through the testimony of witnesses. But Robb had refused.

He stood at the door, ignoring the shouting and excitement at his back. Stannis was the first to open it, followed by Robb's mother and then Robb himself. There was only a short moment where the door was left open, so that the mass behind him was able to witness that both Robb and his bride were in fact present. The Maester that had wed them was the one who closed the door and the room was suddenly much quieter than it had been moments before.

There were words spoken, traditional words that meant very little to Robb other than ceremony. They were not meant to be of any comfort. Simple and official. Stannis and Catelyn both spoke, an answer to a question Robb did not hear. It felt like an eternity of words as he stood there, glancing towards the fire and taking in the warmth of it for as long as he could until he heard the click of the door shutting behind him.

He turned, the room that was once occupied was now empty aside from him and Selene. They were alone for the first time. It was not until then that he allowed himself to look at her. He was surprised to find that she was already looking at him as he did so, her round blue eyes meeting his with the same nervousness he had seen downstairs from behind her wine cup.

He was not sure what he had expected when he arrived in the wedding chambers. He felt guilty as he glanced around briefly, unable to take his eyes from her too long. He didn't know why, but he was angered by the setting, embarrassed that this woman was not given better. It was his own fault, he realized. He had been too busy, too impatient and too careless to think of anything except his own displeasure at the whole arrangement. He had given no thought to how this would be for her.

He wanted to say something, anything that might ease the awkwardness of this room and what was going to happen next. But nothing came to mind. He was a king and yet he felt so very much like a child. His cowardice was creeping up inside of him as he watch her shift her weight from her left foot to her right. It was only then that he noticed her attire, her thin shift of silk and lace that left very little to his imagination. Her feet were bare, and her toes curled slightly on the damp floorboards and he knew she must be cold.

He walked over to her, grabbed her hand in his despite the look of protest she started to give him and he lead her over towards the fur rug and the fire. He did not like that she was cold, her womanly body reacting to the chill in the drafty room while he pretended not to notice. Indeed, he stood there with his wife and pretended not to notice her breasts or the way the milky flesh of her shoulder seemed to glow with the light of the fire dancing off of it.

It took a clearing of her throat for him to realize he was still holding onto her hand, gripping it more like, and he very slowly let it drop back to her side. She didn't like to be touched, he was gathering that much. Unfortunately for them both there would be a great deal of touching before their night was over.

"I was told you won a great victory in the West and that is what delayed your travels," she spoke, and he was glad for it. She did not sound bitter as she said it. In fact, she sounded more enthused than she had at any point in their previous conversation.

"Yes, but the story is rather dull. I would not want to bore you," he admitted but she shook her head.

"I assure you it would not," she insisted. Intrigued by his new wife's sudden interest, he indulged her.

"There is a village, some three days ride from Lannisport, called Oxcross. I had received word that Lord Stafford Lannister was training men there, more recruits for the Lannister army that we partially defeated in the Riverlands. I had no way of reaching the encampment without engaging with the strongholds on the border of the western territories. By then we would have had no advantage whatsoever." She sat down in the chair as he spoke, hanging on each word as if she were painting a picture for herself in her own mind. "We thought we were stranded outside the border, that I would have to hold off any offense until I could receive ships either from your father or Balon Greyjoy."

"Balon Greyjoy?" she said, a scrunching her nose slightly in a way that he found slightly amusing. "I do not wish to suggest that your strategy in treating with the Ironborn is in any way misguided, but-." She paused then, taking a deep breath and shaking her head, more to herself than to him. "Apologies, please, continue."

He wished she had continued, but her expression said she would not interrupt again. He made a note to bring it up at another time to see if she would express her opinion more freely.

"I was actually preparing to leave for my journey here when my direwolf, Grey Wind, discovered a path on the outskirts of the borders that was not on any maps we had in possession. He led us right through the lines under cover of darkness and the Lannister camp was taken completely unaware." Selene seemed oddly impressed.

"Your direwolf found a hidden path?" she asked, soundly only mildly skeptical. He nodded. "Clever fellow," she whispered to herself more than to him.

"Yes, he is."

"Do you always take him into battle?" she asked curiously and again, he nodded. "Is he here now?"

"He's outside the village, with some of my men. I did not think it wise to bring him into the inn," Robb clarified. "He does not always take to strangers well."

She looked as though she was going to say something else then, but thought better of it and her mouth dropped. The awkward silence returned as she sat there and Robb wished he had stretched the story a bit longer, if only to see that look of intrigue in her eyes once more.

"Your father's ships-" he started to say but her voice interrupted.

"_My_ ships," she corrected and it was his turn to look fascinated by this discovery.

"Your ships?" he asked and she tilted her chin, proudly.

"_My ships_, were gifted to me four years ago, upon my seventeenth name day. I may be a mere lady, Your Grace, but I assure you my knowledge of maritime warfare will exceed your expectations."

Any tension within him was dwindling as she spoke, the confidence in her voice a more relaxing sound than the uncomfortable silence that had once hung in the air. He now recalled Stannis mentioning that the fleet was his daughters, but at the time he did not understand the implication.

"Tell me about your ships," he asked softly, out of genuine curiosity, and selfish prolonging of the inevitable. He sat down across from her as she began talking, listing off names and models of each of her ships in the fleet that she commanded under House Baratheon.

He found her manner of talking to be different than most ladies he knew, which were in fact few. But Selene was the daughter of the man who was once the Master of Ships, a man who was now a king. His fleet was one that should be feared. Robb should not have been surprised by her knowledge, but he was. Her intellect was almost intimidating and he felt that his anxiety was replaced with something new though it was a feeling he could not name.

She filled a cup with wine as she talked, handing it to him as she described an encounter she had once had with pirates in Shipbreaker Bay as a young girl. She sounded like she was telling some story from a book, about adventure and suspense. And in that moment he had forgotten this was his wedding night and his sole responsibility was to bed a woman he had barely known for a few hours.

But the time did finally come and it seemed to hit them both like a weight against their shoulders as her stories died down and an imminent and heavy silence filled the room. He did not want her to feel obligated to make the first move. So he walked away, towards the only surface not covered in candles, and unclasped his cloak, lying it neatly on top and began removing the rest of his outer clothing.

It felt nice, getting out of clothes that he had not realized until then had been damp. When his boots and doublet were stacked over his cloak, he spotted her watching him anxiously. Her breaths were deep but staggered as if she was attempting and failing at keeping them steady. She even tried to hide her fingers which were fidgeting with the hem of her shift. Robb prolonged his movements for as long as he could without looking ridiculous. But the moment came when he was standing in in his breeches and a thin linen tunic and both knew they could no longer put off what they were both there to do.

She took a deep breath before standing and her steps were slow and not at all as confident as she was trying to make them seem. She stopped in front of him and Robb noticed for the first time that she was fairly tall for a woman. He barely bent his neck down to meet her eyes and they searched his for answers he did not have, instructions he could not give.

He wasn't sure if he should touch her at first, but when he felt her breath near to his, he could not help himself. She only flinched slightly when his hand touched her arm, her skin warm against his palms from beneath the thin shroud of silk she wore. She did not move away from him or indicate in any way that she wanted him to let her go.

He did not pretend to be oblivious of her body this time when he glanced down at her, taking in the way the fabric fell over each of her curves. He had decided when he first saw her that she was a fairly handsome woman, much to his surprise. But the more he looked at her, watched her movements, he decided that she was more than handsome, pretty actually, in a way he could not explain. He did not just feel obligated to touch her, he wanted to. He wanted to feel her skin under his fingertips and watch the gooseflesh appear as he did so. He wanted to know how her body would react to his. To know _her_.

But he also did not want to frighten her and so he did not let his eyes linger for too long before he led her towards the bed. It felt cheap, leading her to the spot where he would take the one thing that ought to belong to her to give at her will. But she did not resist, in fact she was the first to sit on the bed so that she was looking up at him in a mix of anticipation and impatience.

He almost laughed at this impatient wife of his, wanting to postpone their bedding and now wanting to get it over with as soon as possible. He wondered if she would always be this way, a fickle wife with her fickle mind. But he was not so sure that he would mind if it was. His amused thoughts were interrupted when she undid the tie at the top of her nightgown and he placed his hand over hers, keeping it in place before the dress fell from her shoulders.

"You don't have to," he whispered in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "If you wish to keep it on, that is."

She seemed surprised by this, as if it were a new revelation she had not previously considered She did not need to remove the gown for them to complete their obligation. And so, when he moved his hand from hers, she held the shift together by it's ties and loosely tied them back together. He didn't have time to feel disappointed. She was right to be impatient. They were both tired, he remembered and perhaps the only way to get through this was to let it end as quickly as possible.

He did not need to tell her to lie back as he started pulling of his breeches and she diverted her eyes when his tunic followed the linen trousers to the floor. The furs had already been pulled back and beneath her was a plain white linen sheet and under her halo of dark hair was one simple pillow. Both of them were likely used to better accommodations. Back home his bed did not creak or feel brittle under his weight.

But this arrangement was not meant for sleeping. It was meant for their consummation. A consummation between royals on a straw bed with stratchy linen sheets and one pillow. She shifted uncomfortably as she waited for him and he wondered if it was her nerves or the bed that caused it.

Once his clothes were completely removed, Robb realized he had never been naked in front of a woman. He wished she would look at him, at least to reassure him that she was not displeased by his appearance. But even when she did look at him as he crawled over her, she did not meet his eyes. Instead, her eyes were trained on his chest, specifically at the scars he had most recently received in battle.

She sat up on her elbows as she studied them, her brows furrowed in concentration and her mouth down turned into a frown that reminded him too much of her father. And he watched, curiously as she lifted her hand slowly as if she might reach out to touch him. Robb held himself still, his hands on either side of her and waited. But her fingers paused a few inches from his skin and then recoiled, curling under as she pulled them back to her side.

He didn't realized he'd been holding his breath then.

"You really are a warrior, aren't you, husband?," she whispered, barely audible but he felt his stomach leap at her words, the way her voice sounded in awe as she examined him.

He was not sure what prompted him to lean in towards her, covering her wine-stained lips with his own, but there was something about her eyes and the weariness in her once stern voice that sent him into a haze. _This was it_, he told himself and could feel her body stiffen beneath his at their contact. It was bold of him, and he knew that even as he allowed his lips to continue to move over hers, letting his fingers graze the skin of her shoulder as he did so.

Their kiss ended when he pulled back and he saw only confusion in her eyes. He wished it was love, it would have made it easier for them both. He wanted to love her then, wished he felt something other than pity for this woman beneath him. The neck of her dress, which hung down over one shoulder, was now pushed down slightly so that he could see the top curve of her breast. He watched her chest rise and fall as she tried to control her breathing, to no avail, and he cupped her face in his hand.

"Please don't be scared," he whispered to her, and perhaps to himself, but it seemed it did not comfort either of them. It was a foolish request to ask of her.

Her heart was racing when his hand moved down over her hip. He rose the fabric, soft underneath his hands, until he felt the warmth of her flesh replace the silk gown. She flinched at this but she tried to hide it as she pretended to shift slightly. He did not acknowledge it, knowing she would not want him too. She closed her eyes as he touched her, as if willing herself to stay still under his fingertips. The thought made him frown, that his touch displeased her. But he did not remove his hand nor did she ask him to.

He did not need time to ready himself. He was not sure if it was the wine, or the sheer closeness of her naked flesh that aided in his arousal. Perhaps it was both, he thought. The wine gave him the confidence to look down at her milky thighs beneath his hands. The sight of them pushed together, clamped tight told him she was still not ready for him. She needed coaxing before they could be together. And he found that he didn't mind giving that too her.

He placed his lips back down by her face, her eyes still closed in anticipation, and it was clear by the small intake of air through her lips that she had not expected him to kiss her neck. He traced his lips down her shoulder, over all the bare skin her nightgown would concede. Her skin smelled divine, a mixture of slight perspiration and some sort of perfume.

His hand traveled higher as his mouth continued it's work over her throat, touching the soft edges of her hips and then the taut flesh of her stomach. He felt her body rise slightly as if to meet his own and his heart began to race with is own anticipation. He did not reach any higher for fear of how she might react. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her when she was so close to trusting him.

The heat between their skin rose from a dull warmth to a heat that caused his own skin to dampen. Her breaths became shallower when his fingers hovered over her ribcage, just beneath the underside of her breast. And the movement was so sudden he did not seem to notice that her thighs had parted until she felt one of her knees graze against his bare hip.

A sound involuntarily escaped his throat and his eyes searched for hers, for permission or acknowledgement but they were still closed when he came up from her neck to find them. He looked at her, saw her cheeks were pink with something that was not embarrassment and her skin glistening slightly above her brow and he thought perhaps he had done something right.

"Selene," he whispered, his lips nearly touching hers but her eyes did not open. Her lips quivered briefly, reacting to his closeness, but still her eyes remained shut. "Selene," he tried again. "Look at me."

She wanted to be defiant, he could see the resistance in her. His patience was dwindling as he felt her squirm underneath the weight of him and he knew he could not wait much longer. But he needed to see her, need to look at her and make sure she was ok. And she did open them, when his lips caressed hers in one simple motion and he watched the blue orbs appear from under her long dark lashes. He asked for permission without words but with his glance.

"I am ready," she tried to say but it was strangled slightly, trailing off into a whisper. "Get it over with." Her facade was failing. He could see a tear fall from the corner of her eye and he stopped to wipe it away with his thumb. Another did not take it's place.

"Let me know if you want me to stop," he instructed and he thought he saw her nod. Their gaze did not break as he entered her, as slowly as he could. Her nails clutched his upper arm and she could not stop herself from crying out briefly.

He stopped though his heart was pounding and urging him to continue, because he could see her discomfort as he moved. But when his movements paused, she shook her head in protest. She did not want him to stop and so he did as his lady commanded. He pushed deeper inside of her until he could not go any further and he let out a long breath, a strangled groan. He was ashamed that he felt so much pleasure whilst she was in pain. But his brave wife did not say a word as he then moved inside of her, as slowly and gently as his agony would allow.

Her eyes closed only once or twice, until he watched her relax under his movements. Her hand was still clutching his arm, her nails now digging into his flesh as he kept his thrusts steady and even. He felt her move once or twice, instinctive movements that only made keeping a slow pace more difficult.

He wanted to tell her it was almost over, that he could feel himself coming to the end. But he couldn't speak in words, just heavy pants followed by a whispered apology when he thought he heard a smothered cry of pain. She had turned her head away from his, hiding her face in the crook of her arm. He moved quicker now, trying to end her anguish. He could hardly breathe, burying his face into her the damp flesh of her shoulder.

He could not contain the sound that left his throat then when he found his release, muffled into her skin as his body pulsed involuntarily. He stayed there a while, long enough that he realized he must have been crushing her though she stayed perfectly still.

He rolled off of her when he was unable to lift himself with his arms. The bed was much smaller than he'd thought. He could not help that their shoulders touched as he tried to steady his breaths. She was on her side when he finally turned to look at her, her body facing away from his. He reached out, placing his hand on her arm but she flinched away from him. He didn't try to touch her again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair.

He was met with silence, the room flickering with candlelight. He waited, for what seemed like an eternity before he heard the steady breaths that indicated she was asleep. Then he too let himself rest, closing his eyes as the lights grew dimmer and dimmer, until the darkness finally took over.

* * *

SELENE

She thought, perhaps, that she would feel different when she woke that morning. But she didn't.

The sun's rays barely crept into the window of their shabby wedding chambers and she realized she had been awake for hours. She had hardly slept, waking up at one point in the night, feeling the heat of a body next to her. It had startled her, feeling his chest against her back and for a moment she had forgotten what had transpired just hours prior.

If she was honest with herself, she felt almost exactly the same. Relieved, of course, but still the same person she had been the day before. She was happy for it, happy that she did not feel changed in any way except for the slight throbbing between her thighs. It wasn't so bad, she thought. She had endured worse from an all day endeavor on horseback. It was nothing she could not handle.

She did not wait for someone to wake her, rising from the bed slowly as not to wake the sleeping figure on her right. He did not seem to stir as she rose, and she only glanced down for a moment. Even in the dim morning light she could see the evidence of their consummation. Stained on the sheets was the last remnants of her youth and she turned her head away, ashamed at the sight of it. All the anxiety and discomfort had been for something so small.

She wanted to wash, but felt embarassed to do it when her new husband, a stranger still, was so near. She saw the partition in the corner, not affording much for privacy but it would do well enough for her short task. She soaked a clean cloth in the water, rubbing it over her her skin. She shuddered at how cold it was and whispered an expletive through her chattering teeth.

She dressed quickly, pulling on a simple dress with a cloak over her shoulders to keep her warm. A brief pass by the looking glass in the corner reminded her to fix her disheveled hair. There were too many knots and she did not have the patience to comb them all out and so she hid them in one long plait over her shoulder.

She did not look back at Robb as she left the room.

Outside the door, she found one of her father's guards, Gyff, and a young man she recognized to be Robb's squire. She knew him to be a Frey, and yet his demeanor was that of a smile when he bowed to her, even before her father's man caught on himself.

"Your Grace," the Frey boy greeted with a kind grin. Gyff, in contrast, did not speak at all. "We have been instructed to inform Lady Stark and King Stannis of your departure of these chambers.

Of course, she recalled. They needed to witness the marriage bed to see that they had accomplished their task. She simply nodded.

"Is my presence required?" she asked and the boy shook his head.

"Er, no Your Grace."

She turned then to Gyff, a man she had known nearly all her life.

"Gyff, find my father and tell him I will break fast with my sister," she informed, her voice steady.

"Yes, Princess," he agreed.

She started to walk away towards the stairwell when she paused, an afterthought. She glanced back at the Frey boy.

"And please inform my husband, we he wakes, of my whereabouts," she instructed, attempting to say the word as naturally as she could. He nodded his acknowledgement.

With each step away from that room, she felt lighter. She could breathe easier when she found her sister in the dining area, ignoring the cheers and knowing glances in her direction. Shireen smiled when she spotted her. She was sitting with her Septa who had a scowl haggard face, holding Shireen's book hostage until the child ate the meal in front of her.

"Selene," exclaimed Shireen, trying to rise from her place at the table but Septa Moude held her arm to keep her in place.

Selene sat down by her side. Only a few moments passed before a plate was put in front of her and she had not realized until her stomach growled at the sight of it, that she was hungry. She could not remember the last time she had eaten.

"I'm sorry I missed the feast last night," Shireen apologized. "Mother told me it was no place for children. But I wish I could have seen you dance with the King in the North at least once."

"There was no dancing, Shireen," she told her sister who looked disappointed by the revelation.

"None at all?" she asked and Selene shook her head, cutting a piece of meat and savouring the flavor as she placed it on her tongue. "At my wedding there will be much dancing," she said matter-of-factly. "I will dance until my feet are sore."

"I should like to see that very much," Selene indulged. "I can assure you nothing exciting happened in your absence."

"It sounds utterly underwhelming," Shireen replied, disappointment in her eyes and Selene felt the corners of her mouth twitch into a small grin which she concealed quickly.

"You are perceptive as always, my dear." The warmness dwindled slightly as her sister turned her eyes towards her plate.

"Father is preparing the horses for our departure this morning," she whispered and thought Selene knew this was coming, she could not help but feel as though a new type of worry was pulling at her. She could only nod.

She had nearly forgotten what would happen after the wedding. This brief escape from the reality that war was waging around them had been distracting enough that she only now remembered she would be leaving her family and joining another. Shireen would return to Dragonstone with her parents whilst Selene would travel to Riverrun with her husband. There the two kings would prepare to return to battle.

Her ships were safe at Seaguard, protected under a secret pact her father had struck with Lord Jason Mallister, a strong Baratheon supporter after the events of Robert's Rebellion. When Robert's death shifted the line of succession, Lord Mallister kept his promise to guard the fleet in the Riverlands. This fleet, which was so precariously placed now with the Iron Islands lying directly between their path to Lannisport. She would travel to Seaguard from Riverrun when her husband returned to the Westerlands and she would prepare her fleet for battle.

How much of this plan her husband was aware of, she did not know. But it was why she had been so interested in his treating with Balon Greyjoy. She had forgotten that Lord Eddard had taken Balon's only male heir as his ward, a boy who would have grown up in the North instead of the harsh ways of the Ironborn. Even with that revelation, she believed the envoy would fail. Balon Greyjoy bowed to no king, certainly not a Stark.

"I'll write to you," Selene promised. "Once I arrive at Riverrun and I'll tell about everything I see. And by the time you arrive back at Dragonstone, there will be a stack of letters so high you get sick of hearing from me."

This seemed to please her sister who beamed back at her with both sadness and joy. Selene had been anxious about the wedding, but she desperately feared what might happened when she left her sister to her mother's protection. She knew Shireen was brave, and so long as her father was near that she would be safe. But what she feared most was the war her father was ready to wage on the crown. A war that was viewed as a usurper's rebellion to many still loyal to Joffrey's claim.

If her father failed, the safety of her sister could not be guaranteed. In fact they would want to ensure that the traitor's issue was not a threat as well. They would extinguish any possible rebellion for the future. If her father did not succeed at restoring the succession, Shireen would be slaughtered.

Selene would be safer, she thought angrily. Though her wedding to the King in the North would be kept secret as long as possible, word would eventually get out at the Young Wolf's alliance with the Baratheons of Dragonstone. And it wouldn't be long before they would hunt her down as well.

"My Queen," someone whispered from over her shoulder and Selene turned to see her maid, Aida, holding her riding clothes. "I have finished packing your trunks onto the carriage as well as ensured that your mare is being prepared for your journey."

"Thank you, Aida," she replied. "Have my father and Lady Stark finished their inspection of the wedding chambers?" she asked, lowering her voice and the girl blushed slightly but nodded.

"His Grace, your husband, has also instructed that I send word that he wishes to see you before departure."

"Please tell His Grace that he can speak to me for the rest of his life, should he so wish it, but that I will spend the remainder of my time in Pinkmaiden, with my sister." The girl seemed taken aback the request and the tone at which it was expressed. While Selene's voice was low, her tone was much harsher.

"Selene!" Shireen hissed from beside her. "If you wish to avoid him, please do not use me as an excuse." Selene felt like a child being scolded. "You forget he is your husband."

"And you are my blood."

The two girls sat there, eyes locked and neither willing to concede to the other. Selene did not appreciate being ordered about just because she was now someone's wife. But she could see Shireen was not going to allow her elder sister's temper to succeed. She groaned, a concession that caused Shireen to grin wickedly and Selene stood and followed Aida up to her chambers.

Glancing over her shoulder she saw her sister's triumphant smile as she reached for the book across the table, this time dodging her Septa's attempt to slap her hands away. It was Selene's fault the child was so bold. She had created a monster.

This time she could not hide her own smile.

She amusement to herself, however, as she climbed the steps, reaching the top to find Lady Stark closing the door to the bedchambers. She stopped, her smile instantly fading from her lips. She politely curtsied for the woman whose blue eyes then caught hers. She was a lovely woman, her auburn hair burning bright in the light of a nearby window. She was some years older than Selene, but the woman still held an air and beauty about her that she found intimidating.

"Lady Stark," she greeted and the woman eyed her carefully before responding with a curtsey of her own.

"Your Grace," she replied curtly and did not give Selene a chance to speak again before descending the steps and leaving Selene alone with her maid outside the door she had never wanted to enter again.

Aida opened the door but Selene walked in first, spotting Robb immediately sitting on the edge of the bed that was now stripped of it's reminders and for that Selene was relieved. He was pulling on his boots, only dressed in his trousers and tunic. She remembered her riding clothes in Aida's hands and the partition that was of little use. She walked over to it, signaling Aida to follow. She removed her cloak, stringing it over the thin screen for some extra privacy. It allowed very little.

"You wished to see me, Your Grace?" she questioned, her voice sounding bitter even to her. She handed her dress to Aida as she slipped out of it. Aida, in turn, handed her thicker linen underdress to wear beneath the rest of her attire.

"You were not here when I woke," he replied hesitantly and Selene thought it was a curious thing to say. "I did not hear you get up."

"You'll find I am a light sleeper and used to waking before most others," she explained as Aida held out her riding dress and Selene stepped into it without losing her balance once. The dress was made of wool, slightly scratchy, but it would keep her warm. "And I did not wish to wake you." It was an honest answer. She had not wanted to wake him but not so much as a consideration but rather to avoid this very conversation.

"I had thought I could speak to you alone?" he asked her.

"Is that necessary?" she countered and she could hear him sigh.

"Yes," he insisted.

Aida's fingers stopped moving through the ties to the dress and Selene looked back to see her maid's conflicted expression. Aida had never much liked confrontation and often cowered when Selene's temper flared. Even now she watched Selene carefully. Selene grudgingly nodded, taking hold of the ties in her hand and watching her maid retreat quickly out the door.

As it turned out, she was stuck behind the curtain, her dress only done up half way. She could not reach around to finish them herself and so Robb Stark had unknowingly trapped her in a very compromising position. She could hear his boots against the floor, his steps coming closer in a manner that caused Selene to reach out for the nearest thing to cover herself.

"I am not yet decent," she protested with wide eyes when she thought he might come behind the partition but his steps stopped.

"I gathered as much," he replied as if it had been obvious. Perhaps it was.

"What is it you wished to say?" she asked, her voice less confident as it was before they were alone. She could hear him shift the weight from one leg to the other and she wondered why he was so anxious. Did he want her here alone so that he could have her again before they departed?

"When you were gone this morning, I didn't get a chance to you make sure you were alright," he admitted and she felt herself stiffen slightly.

She had not expected him to ask after her condition. In fact, she had expected him to have a triumphant grin on his face as men patted his back and congratulated him on his conquest. Instead he had summoned her to inquire after her well being?

"I-" she began and cleared her throat. "I am quite well, Your Grace. And how do I find my husband this morning?"

"Not _quite well_," he answered irritably, mocking her own words. She was surprised at his sudden change in temperament. Her stomach sank at his words and she wondered if she had failed at pleasing him the evening before. "I wanted you here so I could look at you and-"

He paused, mid sentence, his stride so quick that it startled her when he emerged behind their barrier and she jumped. He did not stop until he was standing mere inches in front of her and she felt ridiculous as she held her dress up by it's strings. He did not seem to take note of her appearance at first. His eyes only sought out hers and she saw that they were both full of frustration and the same concern they had emitted the night before.

"I needed to see you," he repeated. "I needed to see for myself that I had not harmed you."

"Harmed me?" she asked, confused.

"When we-" he trailed off. "I wanted to be gentle with you and I am afraid I might have failed."

Her cheeks were hot under his gaze and upon hearing him speak of their intimacy the night before. He was as uncomfortable mentioning it as she was, but his expression read more as concern than disappointment. He reached out for her hand and took it in his, ignoring her flinch at their contact. He pulled her closer to him so that she was forced to bend her head just slightly to look up into his eyes and then he swallowed.

"I know last night was difficult and awkward and foreign. It was equally those things for me as well," he told her and it was this admission that surprised her the most. She had heard her mother and Melisandre voice their suspicions of her husband's virginity, but never had she believed it to be true. She remembered the word 'difficult' and she felt her eyes fall.

"Did I displease you?" she asked and she immediately wished she hadn't. It sounded weak and foolish.

"Displease me?" he asked in confusion. "Selene nothing you could have done would have displeased me."

When she could not find the words to continue, she stood there, looking away uncomfortably as she pondered the pained expressions he wore the night before. They had been ingrained in her memory and had thought at the time that he was angry with her inexperience. She had felt embarrassed at her body's reaction to his touch, her squirming and loss of control when all she wanted was to lie still and let him help himself to her until he had finished.

She felt herself being turned, and she was not sure what was going on until she felt him fumbling with the ties of her dress. At first she thought she would protest, thinking he was undoing them. But as the bodice tightened around her frame, she realized it was just the opposite. He was slow and cursed under his breath when he would drop one of the strings.

"I have very little experience with dress strings," he whispered and his breath was warm on her neck.

"Yes, I noticed," she found herself saying. She was glad she was not facing him. He might have seen the way her eyes closed involuntarily as his thumb accidentally grazed over her neck.

His hand slid over her shoulder, down her arm until her hand fell into his and he lifted up, inspecting the ring that was settled neatly on her center finger. He ran his finger over it gently, letting his fingers linger over hers for a few moments before placing it back at her side. She waited for him to move back but he did not. He just pushed her braid over her right shoulder carefully, as if it was so fragile it might break from mere touch alone.

"I will do better for you, next time," he promised her, his voice next to her ear.

All at once his heat disappeared, as if it was never there at all, and she could hear from his steps that he was making his way across the room. He gathered his things, continuing on with packing up the few items he had brought along with him. She was frozen, standing there without any idea of how to commence after their encounter, after he had stood there and tied her dress and spoke of how he would be the next time he took her in his bed.

All the while she had completely forgotten there even would be a 'next time'.

* * *

A/N: I normally prefer to write the smut scenes (not that I'd call this smut exactly) from the OC point of view, but I thought I'd try my hand at giving it a little Robb perspective. First time and all, I felt like it had to be awkward all around. But of course there was a little of something else, though I don't think either of them realized what that was - being first timers. This chapter got lengthy, but I A) didn't want to rush the consummation and B) wanted to add a little bit of Selene's reaction to it all. End Result - she's trying her best to forget about it because she has no idea what is even going on with her own body, let alone his. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. This will begin moving forward with my next one. Thank you so much for all the support, the PMs and the reviews as well as follows and favorites. You all seriously rock. I especially am glad that you guys like Selene (my fickle little OC) and the Baratheon &amp; co. characters that I've added as well. Not many stories focus on the Stannis plot, but I am hoping I am doing it justice. I'm shutting up now….Lola.


	7. Chapter Six

**| Chapter Six |**

* * *

ROBB

The journey to Riverrun was a short one. The weather had afforded them a much needed ease to their day long ride through the Riverlands. They stopped only once, to rest the horses and themselves. Robb had tried to allot more time for stopping, for the sake of his new wife, but Selene had been the one to insist they move forward. It hadn't helped that his men gave her skeptical glances when Robb had announced a break only a few hours into their journey. Embarrassed, Selene had immediately urged they carry on.

It was the only time he had spoke to his wife all day, he realized when Riverrun was within sight. It was as if he did not exist upon leaving their wedding chambers. She had hardly even glanced in his direction as if the simple act of even an accidental meeting of the eyes would be too much for her to bear.

She simply rode with an ease of a woman who had ridden all of her life. Of course she had, he reminded himself. He often forgot Selene's status, a woman who was was raised knowing there was always a slight chance she might have to take the throne one day. It was only a slight possibility, a possibility that was now no longer out of reach. It was an inevitability.

Stannis had designated a number of men to stay on as her guard, a healthy lot of men who seemed to have known the Baratheon Princess for most of her life. She commanded respect in her demeanor. A simple glance from her would silence them if needed. And it seemed as though they received more glances, though they were of a severe nature, than he did.

He hated that it bothered him so much. He had spent the morning apologizing for putting her through pain. And all he received in return was a cold shoulder. He could not help that it infuriated him slightly. He thought he had seen a brief moment of vulnerability when they spoke, standing behind her partition with her tired eyes and concern that she'd displeased him.

Now things could not have been more opposite.

"She's avoiding me," he whispered to his mother who rode at his side.

Night was falling and the sight of Riverrun on the horizon, it's torches flaming against the dark sky, was a welcomed sight.

"Give her time," his mother instructed. "You can hardly expect her to acclimate so quickly. Give her space to adjust. She hasn't forgotten her place."

"How much time was it before you and father warmed to each other?" he asked her although both lowered their eyes at the mention of him. The pain of his loss was too fresh in their minds, and yet it was also the reason they continued to fight each day.

"Your father and I barely had any time together before he went off to fight in Robert's war. I was left in Riverrun while he helped defeat the Mad King. I did not see him for a year. And by then we were still strangers. Of course I was a bit preoccupied with you," she admitted, a half smile on her thin lips. "He had gifted me something so priceless that I could not help but feel some bit of gratitude towards him. It took time, but we grew to respect each other, care for one another and eventually love."

"But I may never love this woman," he thought he had said to himself but from the reaction of her features it was clear he had said so aloud.

"It does not matter if you love her or not, Robb," Catelyn replied sternly. "She is your wife and you will honor her because one day, she will be the mother of your sons and your daughters. And even for that alone, you will find love for her."

Robb looked towards Selene as she rode in the dark, Baratheon men on either side of her. He tried to imagine her as a mother, a kind smile and affection for her children. But he could not see it. Selene hardly tolerated affection towards her own person. How would she be able to stand the touch of a child? Would she be as cold as her own mother, dismissive and harsh?

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!" one of the guards on the wall shouted and Robb glanced up towards the heavy gate as it lifted slowly, granting them access to his mother's ancestral home.

The courtyard was still in disarray from when he'd departed last. There had been little time to reconstruct what had been destroyed during the Lannisters' attacks on the Riverlands. But still, his grandfather was hospitable enough to find warm beds and food for their brief stay. He was anxious to return to his soldiers. He had found himself comfortable among them, more comfortable than he did under the gaze of his own wife even.

He sought out Selene as he dismounted his horse, men were crowding around him, unloading wagons and gathering the horses. He spotted her easily, standing nearest to the carriage she had refused to ride in upon his request. She wasted no time in directing her staff, instructing them on which belongings to remove and where to send them once they were. She stopped only for a moment as a man Robb recognized as his grandfather's steward relayed a somewhat lengthy message and then returned to the castle with a deep bow.

He pulled his gloves from his hands as he approached her and watched how effortlessly she handled it all. Each of her men carried something, in a line as they held it under the torchlight for her further inspection. Aida, Selene's ladies maid, emerged from the carriage eagerly awaiting instructions. It was as if everyone had learned a coordinated dance that he was not privy to.

"My Lady-" he began and Selene's head spun in his direction with a determined expression. She did not allow him to offer his services and instead started pointing out many of his own trunks that he had not, until now, known he even traveled with.

"I was told by the steward that a few of my things from Dragonstone have already arrived. My ladies, namely, and a dozen or so of my staff. I was told chambers have been prepared for our arrival but I should need to know if you would prefer your own so I can have your things properly delivered." She spoke quickly, as if his presence were a distraction she did not want but he was still overwhelmed by the whirlwind that was his wife. A side he had yet to see.

"I-" he began, unsure. "I am sorry, My Lady, for my hesitation, I am not familiar with all of this…" he motioned to everything she had previously pointed out. "What is all of this, exactly?"

"Gifts," she replied simply with no change in her expression. "My father and many of his lords have seen fit to send us off with some gifts in celebration of our union."

"I do not think we are in much need of gifts during war, Selene," he told her with a frown, thinking what could he possibly need with candelabras or silks.

But she seemed to pick up on his distaste with frivolity and she halted two of her men who were side by side carrying a rather large trunk. They set it down on the ground, per her instruction and she lifted the bolt and then the lid, slinging it back roughly and revealing the gifts inside. He was taken aback at what he saw, trunk after trunk as she stopped her men and opened each lid. Much to his surprise, they were full of supplies for his men. Armor, furs, medicine. These were all items they would be in need of desperately, especially when laying siege to Casterly Rock.

"Do these gifts displease you, Your Grace?" she asked, trying - though not too hard - to hid the triumph in her tone. "Should I see that they are sent back?"

"No, no," he answered quickly. "But do relay our gratitude."

"Yes, Your Grace," she replied, motioning for her men to carry on with their appointed tasks and he thought for a moment she would grin. "Now, about your chambers-" she began again and Robb took the opportunity to gain back the upper hand.

"Have my things sent up to _our_ chambers," he instructed and was pleased when she looked slightly taken aback. "I would spend as much time with my wife as I can before I depart for the front."

She cleared her throat and then her voice was much lower and far less victorious as she said, "Of course." She then looked to Aida. "See that my things are moved into the King's chambers. And have the servants draw His Grace a bath."

"And a hot meal, perhaps, My Lady?" she asked and Selene shook her head.

"Just see to the rooms, Aida. I will take care of the rest. I must speak with the cook to ensure the men have full bellies before bed," she directed and Aida merely bowed her head before heading off towards the keep. "Oh and Aida!" Selene shouted after the girl who turned quickly upon hearing her name. "Do see if someone can find Angus, will you? I do long to see him."

"And shall I have him sent up to your rooms, My Lady?" Aida asked and Selene simply nodded and returned to her work, leaving Robb to wonder who in Seven Hells was being sent to his wife.

Robb could see he was no longer needed nor was his presence desired and he therefore he turned to set out on his own, but his movements were paused by a startled scream and a loud thump in the mud. He glanced back down where his wife once stood and was instead greeted with the sight of Selene face down in the mud with Grey Wind the direwolf standing just to her right. It only took him a moment to work out that Grey had knocked her over and she had been sent flying, unbalanced, into the mud that was now covering half of her face

Laughter erupted from the men, both Baratheon and Stark, as he bent down to help her and she slapped away his hand, her eyes wild with fury. She wiped back her hair, pushing the mud away from her mouth and eyes. She only slipped once as she tried to stand but managed all on her own, despite the laughter surrounding her. She held her head high, despite her shock when she spotted Grey standing nearby, watching her cautiously.

He did think to intervene, that he might need to show Grey that Selene was not an enemy and thus should not be treated like one. But while he was not overly fond of her, he did not seem to find her a threat because he only stood his ground, watching her wipe the mud from her wool dress. She then placed her hands on her hips as she looked down at the great beast and shook her head impatiently. And then, as if she had know the wolf all her life, she pointed away from her and in a stern voice commanded him to go.

And even more surprisingly to Robb, Grey reluctantly obeyed with only a slight grumble as he did so. It was then that the laughter stopped.

* * *

SELENE

She had done her best to keep busy since her arrival at Riverrun. It kept her mind off of everything she was now without, all the things back at the inn in Pinkmaiden where she'd rode off without a glance back.

It only hurt to remember now, but she couldn't help the final images of her sister in tears, or Ser Davos' reluctance to let go when Selene had hugged him one last time. Even her father had lingered much longer than she had expected, standing nearby in silence as he contemplated his choices. But it was much too late now, she reminded him in a whisper when she kissed his cheek and his hand lingered over hers as she did so.

And then she was gone.

Each step her mare took in the opposite direction felt like torture, like part of her heart was being ripped out of her chest and all that was left was the shell of this creature, this woman who was cold and unfeeling. This woman no one seemed to like. And she didn't blame them.

She knew it was supposed to take time to heal after something that felt so akin to loss. But Selene didn't have time for such a transition. And so during the hours and hours upon horseback towards Riverrun, she forced them further out of her mind, focusing only on removing the agonizing sadness that ripped through her.

Upon arriving, she found ways to keep her mind occupied. It was late, and most of the castle's household was long to bed. But Selene had much to do before she could settle herself or her mind down for a night of rest. Robb tried to insist that she leave the work to the house staff, or to their own men. But she ignored the order, as she did most, even when she was half covered in mud thanks to his wild beast of a direwolf.

Eventually, when she was content with the state of things, she allowed Aida to escort her to her rooms where a once warm bath awaited her next to the fire. Aida offered to help her wash, but once Selene spotted her husband buried under furs and dead asleep, she sent the girl off to her own chambers for the night. Angus, her rather large Stormland wolfhound, barely lifted his head to see who was intruding, but once he saw it was her, she was surprised to see his disinterest as he laid his head back down on the edge of the bed.

Once the door was closed behind her, the restlessness seemed to fade, slightly. It was replaced with an uneasiness as she realized that she was alone with Robb once more. She wasn't sure how she felt about the situation. On one hand, he was her husband, the person with whom she had shared more intimacy than she had - and would ever - share with another person. But on the other, he was still very much a stranger and the very thought of bathing in his presence still made her shiver with apprehension.

She let her fingers graze the water as she passed and was surprised that it was still as warm as it was. No doubt her husband had taken her advice and spent some time in a much needed hot bath. However, with as warm as it was, she realized he must have only just fallen asleep. She glanced over to the bed once more to see his eyes closed, the furs pulled up to his waist and his mouth slightly open as he breathed steadily.

He seemed to be asleep, or at least she hoped he was, as she began peeling off her layers of mud-ridden clothes. Each layer was stiff and damp and she struggled more than she might have if she weren't constantly worried that she would blink and he would be standing there, watching her with hungry eyes. Or worse, disgusted eyes.

She tried to push that thought from her mind as her shift fell to the floor and she quickly stepped into the bath, submerging herself as much as she could into its depth. There was not much water, she thought. It was foggy with previous use and came only up under her breasts, leaving them exposed to not only the chill in the air but also wandering glances. She peaked back and her husband's eyes were still shut and his breaths still steady.

She kept her movements still as she washed, trying to make as little noise as possible. She tried to make quick work of it, but the fact was after a long day's journey, the water against her skin was the remedy she had not known she had been craving. A tray of bath oils sat next to the basin and she didn't bother looking at which one she grabbed before she poured it into the water and over her skin. She was not picky. In fact, had she not been thrown into the mud she mightn't have bothered at all. But she shared her bed now and it was the least she could do to be courteous about her hygiene.

When she felt rejuvenated just enough that she was ready to crawl into bed, she reached for her nightgown which was carefully strewn over the chair just close enough that she could strain to reach it. Her fingers reached the hem of the thin garment though she could not wrap them around it enough that she could tug it over to her. She glanced up to see if Robb was still asleep and when she found that he was, she lifted herself just slightly enough out of the water that she could grasp the shift and pull it too her.

But when the shift came, the oils came with it, several small glass vials falling to the floor and shattering upon impact. She recoiled at the sound, stiffening as the noise echoed loudly throughout the room and this time when she glanced back at her husband she saw him standing, half naked with a dagger in hand as he searched alertly for an attacker that did not exist. In its place was a very foolish woman, holding a thin dress over her wet skin that now glistened in the firelight and she could not have been any more mortified.

"Are you alright?" he asked quickly, scanning the room and realizing the noise had only been the clumsiness of his own wife.

"Just an accident," she answered quickly, still standing with her calves submerged in the bath whilst she tried to cover the rest of herself in vain. "I was trying so intently to be quiet that I managed to do quite the opposite."

Robb lowered his dagger, a dagger which she quickly realized was once her own. He placed it down at the table on his bedside, and lit a candle so that he could see better. She wished he hadn't. But he placed it down near her and grabbed a robe that must have belonged to him. He placed it around her shoulders, not letting his eyes linger longer than what was appropriate and then helped her, despite her protests, out of the tub.

She cursed herself then for looking so incompetent in front of him, especially after she had done everything in her power to look independant and strong during their journey here. She did not want him to think she needed him, that she was too weak to take care of herself. And now she probably looked more vulnerable than ever, pink cheeks and an expression that was most likely akin to one of a deer who spotted its hunter.

"I tried to wait for you," he admitted, turning as she dressed herself. "I thought you would want a hot bath after my direwolf so discourteously introduced himself to you. I apologize for him by the way, he has very few manners. Though imagine my surprise when I opened the door to our chambers and was greeted, not so kindly mind you, by this fellow." Robb motioned towards the pathetic lump of fur on the bed.

"Angus, like your Grey Wind, does not take so kindly to strangers," she informed him, glancing over at her dog who took up nearly a third of the large bed. "I had nearly forgotten that I had him sent here. I see you managed to subdue him without my aid, however."

Robb smiled, a genuine smile that was given so freely that it surprised her.

"I think he grew tired of growling when he saw that I wasn't going anywhere and found a place much more comfortable than the floor to sleep on. It seems as though he prioritizes his comfort over my intrusion," he explained.

She sat on the edge of the bed and let her fingers stroke over the large pup's fur. He was no longer a pup, she knew that. In fact he seemed quite old to her now in his languished behavior. She half expected Robb to come shouting down the stairwells that her dog tried to attack him. But here he was, sleeping soundly on the bed of a stranger and he seemed to care even less that she was sitting there with him.

She looked towards the head of the bed where the furs were peeled back slightly and she spotted several feather pillows that made her sigh with joy. Robb seemed to notice this, both having shared in the experience of the one flat pillow at the inn. And she cleared her throat to catch herself from laughing.

"I was having some of the best rest I've had in a long while when I was roused by the sound of - what I thought at the time was - an attacker," he told her, blowing out the candle he'd so recently lit and crawling back under the blankets where he was now and arms length away from her.

"Just me, I'm afraid," she said quietly, fidgeting slightly as she tried to adjust her shift into a comfortable position.

They sat in silence for a long while, both awake and both afraid to say something that might ruin the quiet ease that had settled between them in that moment. The bedsheets were cold against her skin, and despite the thick furs she still shivered beneath them. She wanted to rest her eyes but she felt so alert, once again as she had the night before, by the body much too close to her own. She could not feel his warmth, but she knew it was there, which made it all the more worse.

When she decided that she was not going to succumb to sleep any time soon, she turned over on her side, and ignored the weight that shifted over her feet when Angus stretched. She was surprised to see Robb, in the dim lighting, looking back at her. She wanted to divert her eyes but she found that she could not.

"How long do you plan for us to stay?" she whispered, her voice strained with weariness. He yawned, causing her to yawn as well as he scratched his auburn curls.

"I will need a week to form a proper plan with my council. With your ships and the men your father spared, I will need to begin gathering provisions as well as weapons. I assume you will send word to your ships to have them prepared for movement as soon as I am prepared to move?" he asked her and she sighed. She had wanted to avoid the topic until morning, but it seemed that perhaps now was as good a time as any.

"I must travel to Seaguard as soon as you are able to spare me," she told him and she watched him take in her request. It confused him, she could see it in his eyes as they blinked.

"I don't understand, why would I send you to Seaguard. Lord Mallister's men have already travelled south with my army. There would be little protection for you there. And anyways, I had thought you'd be much safer in Winterfell. My mother would accompany you of course."

"I cannot command my ships, Your Grace, from your winter fortress," she explained to him, trying not to raise her voice.

"Command your ships? Your ships are in Seaguard?" she nodded just enough so he could see her reply of affirmation. "Have they been in Seaguard this whole time?"

"House Mallister has always been loyal to the Baratheons," she reminded him. "The River Lords have bent to the Storm Kings, since long before the Baratheons took Storm's End. Even when the Iron Islanders captured the Riverlands from Arrec Durrandon, the River Lords found that the Storm Kings and the Baratheons who followed, were always friends they could count on in times of war and peace. My ships were entrusted to Lord Jason Mallister as payment for their debts to my father."

"He never mentioned it," Robb breathed. She could see he felt betrayed and she sighed at the thought.

"He could not have given them to you, My Lord, even if you had asked for them. The ships belonged to me, and House Baratheon alone. To give them to you would have brought my father's wrath upon your army at a time when your rule was new and very fragile. Now these ships belong to both of us, and my men will fight under a Stark sigil if you wish it."

Robb seemed to accept this, despite his disappointment in his ignorance of the ships in the first place. But it did not relieve his frown, the frown that was beginning to look so foreign to her on his mouth.

"I still do not understand why _you _must go to Seaguard. I cannot allow my wife to sale out into Ironman's Bay, off to war. Especially when I have no idea what Balon Greyjoy plans to do with my proposal," he told her, this time it was him trying to keep his voice low.

She had nearly spoken her mind the previous night about Balon Greyjoy, her opinion of Ironborn one of strong prejudice as a Stormlander. However, her hatred for them derived also from that of honor, of which the Ironborn had none. She knew their ways and how they fought at sea. She had never faced them herself but she had studied their tactics in books and lessons with her father. And now that his eyes were challenging her for an answer, she could not hold back what she had meant to say before.

"He will likely burn your proposal, spit on it first and then let it turn into ash," she said boldly and he sat up, looking down at her with his brow furrowed curiously.

"Why do you say that? Because of the rebellion? I offered him what we took. A crown for an alliance." he asked her and she forced herself to sit up as well.

"No, I think if anything it has to do with his own idea of self-worth. He wants to be king but not by your doing. Do you remember your lessons, Your Grace? Ironborn only pay the Iron Price. They do not receive gifts from kings. They take. Your war only gives him an opportunity to declare for himself."

"But he might listen still to his son. Theon-" he started and she shook her head.

"-Is more _Stark_ than Kraken. Balon is a proud man, and however noble you think this offer is, the Ironborn cannot be bought by bribery no matter how honorable. He will be insulted."

"And you think this is better reason to allow you to go to Seaguard and sail through his waters?" Robb asked her and the heat in his voice caused Angus to sit up curiously.

"My men have fought the Ironborn before. The Ironborn attack with brute force. They are nothing more than common pirates parading behind a banner of a lord," she dismissed, because to her it was true. The Ironborn were notoriously savage. But it meant she had the advantage with strategy and tact.

"I cannot allow it," he said as if it was final but it wasn't. She wouldn't let it be.

"I do not recall asking for your permission, Your Grace," she ground out and Robb's frown only deepened. She had to steady Angus when he started to growl.

"You will need my permission, Selene," he told her. "You cannot set foot outside of Riverrun without my say so."

"So is this our marriage?" she scoffed. "Our partnership is to begin with you putting me in chains?" He looked away. "You wanted this alliance, Stark. As I recall you needed those ships to take Casterly Rock. And my men fight for me alone." His eyes met hers and both could feel the tension rising alongside her voice. "Just imagine for a moment that I do lead my ships. With any luck, I'll be killed in battle, and you can find yourself a pretty wife that you do love. I can't see how you would be averse to that at least?"

"Don't," he warned and his voice was dark for the first time since she'd heard him speak. "Don't you dare say such things to me."

"You cannot admit to me that you would praise your gods at my removal from this marriage."

"I said _don't_," he hissed again and this time Angus' growls grew louder. Robb snapped his eyes to the dog, who seemed to immediately cower under his gaze and shuffle from the bed to the floor in silence. Selene stared at her dog, aghast. "Look at me," he said quickly, taking her wrist in her hand, but not with enough force that it hurt. It simply sat beneath his fingers as if his touch would convince her rather than his words. She finally did look at him, and when she did his eyes were blue fire. "I may not have asked for you, for a cold, bitter, Baratheon-tempered wife, and yet here you are. But I don't plan on being rid of you any time soon, do you understand?"

She was not so sure she did, honestly, but from the look in his eyes and the touch of his flesh against hers, she was not about to beg him for clarification. So instead she nodded, reluctantly and then snatched her hand back to her side. She did not bother trying to argue with him, a man who clearly had his mind send on his own ridiculous plans for failure. So instead she turned over, facing away from him and his blue eyes and unnatural scowl.

And she forced herself to sleep, this time ignoring the feeling of his bare chest against her back some hours after they'd both drifted off. At some point Angus hopped back up on the bed. She smiled when he growled slightly as he did so and then curled up by her side.

His loyalties back where they belonged.

* * *

A/N: I had some extremely helpful feedback on the last few chapters and I wanted to thank those of you who reviewed and those of you who continue to PM me your thoughts on the development of the story. I love writing Selene and Robb together because they sort of bring out the worst and the best in each other. Of course they still have lots to work out and both will clash on more than just ships and battle plans. I just can't wait to move forward and to see what you guys think about the coming chapters. Thank you again for taking the time to read through to chapter six! Please leave any feedback you have for me in the review box (or continue to PM me, your choice). Thanks, Lola


	8. Chapter Seven

**| Chapter Seven |**

* * *

[ROBB]

Riverrun was bustling with activity. With the morning had brought a new string of responsibilities for both the King and Queen. He awoke, once again, to an empty bed and despite their argument the night before, he found himself slightly disappointed. He did not see her at breakfast, and had to be informed by one of her ladies that she was occupied in the camps overseeing the organization of the supplies they'd been gifted.

He had been stuck in a council meeting, pouring over maps and movements of the Lannister army. Tywin had retreated to Harrenhal, putting Robb in a position to Take the Westerlands for everything they had. Once Selene's ships were in place and Stannis' siege on King's Landing began, Casterly Rock would be his.

It was around midday when he found Selene, scouring over her own letters and documents. She was hunched over a desk in the library, his mother's Uncle Brynden standing nearby, his arms crossed over his chest with a sour expression. He had never seen the Blackfish smile, he realized then and he thought it was quite appropriate then that he was the one standing nearest to the unsmiling woman that was Robb's wife..

"You want to send your ships through Ironman's Bay?" the Blackfish scoffed, shaking his head as he watched her placement of her fleet on the large map and her expression soured. "I'm not meaning any disrespect, Your Grace, but seventy-five ships won't escape the notice of Balon Greyjoy's reavers."

Robb wanted to laugh, having brought up the very same point to her the night before. It was clear she was tired of hearing this argument because she sighed heavily as she too crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring the Blackfish's stance.

"You fail to realize that seventy-five ships can easily take on two or three reaver vessels that may happen to be roaming the bay at any given time," she said matter-of-factly. From the Blackfish's expression Robb could tell this wasn't the first time the two had argued that day. "My men are far more effective in combat at sea than the Ironborn. Even if we do encounter a few of their ships, they will not have the weapons or the speed to match my fleet. They are pillagers, not soldiers."

"Greyjoy knows we need ships now, and if he does not plan to use those ships to help the King in the North, then he will plan to use them elsewhere," reminded the Blackfish. "What the hell do you plan to do if he's waiting near Pyke with his entire fleet?"

Robb was surprised at the man's tone but Selene did not seem to be offended in the slightest. She seemed not only steadfast, but almost at ease and Robb was reminded of their conversation from their wedding night. This was where she thrived. Not in pleasantries, hospitality or romance. In war.

"His entire fleet could not even take half of mine," she challenged and she watched the Blackfish smirk in amusement at her bold statement.

"That sounds a bit like hubris, Your Grace," he told her and Robb cleared his throat when he watched the fury rise in his wife's eyes.

Whatever Selene was about to say next, she let it go - albeit reluctantly - and turned to see him standing there. Robb eyed his uncle who did not look apologetic in the least. No one said a word as Robb approached, the Blackfish gave a slight bow of the head out of respect but she seemed reluctant to even look at him. He had a sneaking suspicion their argument from the night before had put a damper on whatever progress they might have made.

"I see you have met my wife, Ser Brynden," Robb spoke and the Blackfish scoffed loudly.

"Quite a queen you have here, Your Grace," the man replied.

"Indeed she is," Robb replied. Selene's eyes met his own and he saw them burn bright blue. "She has the idea that she should be the one to lead her fleet to battle."

"I have no qualms with a lady leading her men in to battle," he admitted with a shrug. "It's her strategy I have problem with."

"And I take your point into advisement, Ser Brynden," she replied tersely. "But I will counsel with my captains to ensure which course will be best. Of course that would be impossible if my husband still plans to forbid me from leaving Riverrun."

"Riverrun, My Lady, is where you are safest right now," Robb reminded her. She was growing impatient. He was already much too familiar with that expression.

"And who will command my men? You will be too busy fighting inland. You need someone with experience on the sea."

"And what experience do you have to speak of, Selene?" he shot back.

"My knowledge is experience enough," she answered, stepping closer towards him. "Perhaps I have never been to war, Your Grace, but I know how to command my men. I will be safer at sea than I would on land. I will be far from the fighting."

"And yet, still much too close for my comfort."

"I am a Queen," she whispered when he expected her to shout. "Queens ought to fight with their men, just as King's do."

Robb was much too stubborn to admit that she had a point, and perhaps too fearful of accepting the idea of letting a woman he had vowed to protect out of his sight and onto the battlefield. Sea or land, the dangers of war were far too real. He remembered his first battle and Selene may have been brave at heart, but he did not wish that on her.

Robb looked to his uncle and he did not have to ask for a moment alone with his wife. The moment their eyes met the man nodded to the both of them and left the room, closing the door behind him. There was only brief a brief moment where Selene pretended Robb had left with him, ignoring him as she returned to her letters.

"You should not seek council, Selene, unless you wish to take their comments to heart," he explained calmly.

"I told the Blackfish I would take his concern under advisement. He made many valid points. However, it is my wish to discuss them with my men before I make any final decisions," she contradicted and he signed.

"Can we discuss this, as partners?" he asked her and watched her eyes leave the map and meet his. "Is that not what we agreed?"

"I thought there was no discussion to be had, My Lord?" she bitterly asked. "I was under the impression that your decision was final."

"I am not such a hard man that I cannot be persuaded otherwise," he admitted and her scowl faltered. "I am far too young to be King but I have been entrusted this position despite that fact. As King I need to make decisions that are both wise and fair. I admit that when I forbade you from leaving Riverrun that I was not being either."

"How noble of you to admit so," she replied with a slight hint of sarcasm in her voice. "Are you saying that you will allow me to go?"

"I am saying that, as partners, we ought to discuss the option of you leading the fleet and what the consequences of that course of action would be. Does that seem fair?"

"Indeed, it does," she said reluctantly, sitting down in the chair. Robb followed and eased himself down into the chair next to her and he felt very much as if he was negotiating the terms of some peace treaty with the way she was eyeing him.

"My most obvious concern is your safety," he started when she gave him a look of exasperation.

"As I have already assured you, my ships are much safer than your castles. The Riverlands have already been ransacked once. One mistake by your army and they could take Riverrun castle again. My ships are not only faster than any of Balon Greyjoy's, but they are sturdy and tried in combat."

"I do not plan to leave the Riverlands unprotected, especially with my wife and mother amongst them," he objected. "And I would still rather you both travel, under guard, to Winterfell. My brothers cannot run the estate forever, they are only children. And with my sisters separated, Arya still missing, I cannot bear for my family to be apart for much longer. Bran and Rickon need my mother, and they need your help to run Winterfell."

It was true. Robb knew that Bran knew very little about running being lord of a castle. Selene, on the other hand, had been raised in the home of a lord. She would know things other than how to command a fleet. He needed her to use those things to keep Winterfell intact whilst he was away.

But those were not the largest of his concerns.

"I also worry for your safety if you are with child," he added and she let her eyes fall to her hands which were settled neatly in her lap. "I know neither of us wants to think about sharing a bed so soon, however it was part of our contract, that you would bear heirs for the North. Marriage is not as strong as a child is at holding together an alliance."

"Is it really rational to be thinking about heirs when were are in the midst of war?" she asked impatiently and he could see she was not comfortable with the topic.

"There is, in fact, no better time than now," he explained. "You and I are the first to sit on the Northern throne since Torrhen Stark knelt to Aegon the first to end the War of Conquest. If we leave no one to take it's place, there will be no King in the North."

He watched her think, which was a marvelous thing to behold. Selene said everything in her eyes and even though he had barely known her a few days, he could see what each glance meant. Her hands moved steadily over the map in front of her as she contemplated his words. She wasn't ready and neither was he. But the fact of the matter was, they were both thrust into this war now, much too young and unprepared. But they had to adjust and they did not have much time to do so.

"What real use would I be at Winterfell?" she questioned, her tone even and rational. "I do not wish to sit idly and wait for word of your success or failure. Or my father's for that matter."

"You would not be idle," he assured. "I need someone to handle my affairs-" he paused. "Our affairs," he corrected. "You know more about sitting on a throne than I do. You were trained for this."

"But I was also trained to command ships, My Lord," she reminded him but not as forcefully as before. She sighed. "I have seventy-five ships at Seagard. If I can go and simply meet with my captains, discuss a plan of action-" she stopped, placing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, punching slightly. "-I would just feel more comfortable leaving it in their power, if I could speak with them first."

Robb was surprised by her answer. He thought he would never get her to back down, even if he made a good argument. Although it wasn't ideal, it was an option he could feel more comfortable with. An option that he felt would keep her safe and appeased all at once.

"Is this an agreeable alternative?" she asked, and there was disappointment in her voice. It pulled at something in Robb's chest, her downcast eyes and sullen voice.

"Yes," he replied. "But I must insist that l come with you."

"Am I not trusted to see to my own men?" she accused with a frown.

"I believe you when you say you are capable. You know more about ships and sailors than I do. But I wish to know the men who fight for me now. I wish to meet your captains and who you plan to leave to command your fleet in your stead."

She didn't seem overly pleased, but not necessarily angry either. She wouldn't want him breathing down her neck, that he understood. But if he knew anything about his new wife, it was that she was determined and stubborn. If he didn't follow her to Seagard, then she'd end up on that ship with her men, sailing for Casterly Rock with no regard for his orders or outrage.

"Very well," she answered finally and stood. "Then let us not waste time. I should think a day will suffice in order to ready myself for departure to the North. Your mother and I can depart for Winterfell directly from Seagard when you return to West."

"I will make preparations," he agreed curtly but did not get a chance to leave before she started towards the door. She stopped only once, looking over her shoulder with an uncertain expression but her chin held high.

"I will be prepared should you decide to share our bed this evening," she told him, her voice tight and not at all as certain as her stature would have him believe.

He did not know what else to do except nod. She left him then, standing alone in the room with only his nerves as he thought of being with her again. The first time was uncomfortable enough that he had not wanted to think of it again until he had brought it up moments ago. While not ideal, it was necessary.

He had chosen this. And he would ensure that he saw it through.

* * *

[SELENE]

Her father was preparing for battle. It would only be a few weeks before he would bring his fearsome fleet to the doors of King's Landing. Selene read the letter again, noting that Robb's desire to draw in Tywin Lannister's army from the East would allow for just enough time for Stannis to mount a successful attack on the capital.

It was all falling together much easier than she had anticipated.

She stood there, allowing Aida to lace her corset and despite her frustration with her husband, she was determined not to let it show as she had the day before. Aida blushed every time her eyes met Selene's and he knew what the girl was thinking. Selene let her eyes slide over to where the bed was still unmade. They both knew Selene had been with her husband, in a manner that still made Selene uncomfortable to speak about.

The previous night had gone almost exactly as she had expected. They barely spoke beforehand and Robb had given her a disapproving stare when he noticed her wine-stained lips. She couldn't face it with sober eyes, she had believed. His body and the weight of him upon her, the way he moved again and again with urgency, it made her feel helpless. He had kept his promise to her. He had done better for her. But it was exactly that which had made it more difficult for her to bear.

The fact was, it was no longer painful in the way it had been on their wedding night. The first time he'd entered her she had been frightened and taken aback by the fullness she had felt. It was a slow and painful feeling and the more she tensed, the more it ached. But she found her body responding differently the second time, as if this instinctual ritual had been ingrained in her memory. She allowed herself to relax, if only slightly, knowing there was no avoiding it. The same discomfort rose when they joined, but her body was more prepared, anticipation rising within her that she did not know how to quell. A curiosity that made her curse her own wandering mind.

What had embarrassed her most of all, was the look on her husband's face as he met the culmination of their joint endeavor. There was something other than dread. Something more foreign than the awkwardness she had seen before. This time, she noted, there was pleasure in his eyes, in the deep groan that rose from his throat. The mere thought made the blood rush not only to her cheeks, but to every inch of her body as he took her face in his and pressed his lips firmly against hers. To say she had been surprised, would have been an understatement.

And then it was gone, that look and those touches. And they lay silent in the dark until the night consumed them both.

Now as she was dressing, her privacy limited to her three ladies and Angus, the latter of whom was settled quietly by the fire. Alys and Ysmay were busying themselves in packing her things for Winterfell. Aida lifted Selene's dress from the bed and walked it carefully across the room when suddenly their movements were paused by a knock at the door. All four women paused their movements and Angus lifted his head, alert as the knock came again.

Aida opened it, as Selene quickly pulled her robes over her undergarments. In walked Catelyn Stark, dressed in a brilliant Tully blue and her auburn hair tied back modestly. Selene held her arms over the silk robe as the woman's eyes traveled over her appearance but she did not allow the woman to see her cheeks flush.

"My Lady," the ladies each said, curtseying to Robb's mother and Selene bowed her head once in respect.

"Lady Stark," she greeted and the woman bowed her head in return.

"Your Grace," she replied curtly. "I apologize for my intrusion."

"It is no intrusion," Selene contradicted as politely as she could. "His Grace told me he had informed you of our journey to Seagard."

"Yes," Catelyn confirmed, her voice still terse and her stature stiff. Selene had not noticed until now how regal the woman looked. She was eighteen years her senior and yet the woman still had a beauty that was enviable. Selene would never be so beautiful. There were some, in the Stormlands, who compared her features to that of her lady grandmother, Cassana Estermont. It was meant to be a compliment, she knew that. However, it was always accompanied with an clever insult of '_if only she didn't sour her face so often.'_ Selene had inherited that particular trait from her father. And her grandfather, or so it was said.

"My Lady Catelyn, is there something I can do for you?" she asked when the woman didn't continue and Catelyn glanced over towards the bed.

"My son wishes for me to spend time with you, to give you guidance but you will forgive me for saying that I am not overly fond of the idea." It was a cold statement, or so Selene thought. However, it was said in a polite manner and Selene couldn't find herself to be angry at the woman's reluctance.

"We will have much time to spend with one another," Selene noted. "I think, perhaps, it would be wise for us to be friendly. While I have trained for many years for exactly this possibility, I will say I have very little practice in the matter. I would find your guidance most appreciated."

Catelyn glanced towards the bed again.

"Is there something wrong?" asked Selene, noticing the woman's discomfort and she shook her head.

"No," she replied clearing her throat.

Selene watched the woman standing there, looking around the room that Selene shared with her son and it occurred to her that perhaps it the woman was as uncomfortable as she was.

"It is strange, is it not?" Selene told her, breaking the silence. "The situation we have found ourselves in. Neither of us ever having thought I'd marry your son. I for one have spent years preparing myself for a marriage to the South. But somehow I have ended up as the wife of the King in the North."

"Not the crown you expected but a crown nonetheless," Catelyn whispered and there was bitterness in the last few words. Selene motioned for her ladies to leave the room. They all obliged.

"I advised my father against it, you know?" Selene explained. "However, we daughters are ultimately bargaining chips, are we not?" Catelyn did not nod or speak to agree but Selene could see it in the woman's eyes. "Your husband was a good man. I remember him, from when I was a child. He must have been wed to you for less than a year when he came south to lift the siege on Storm's End. I was with my father, in the great keep when he came through the gates. I thought then, when i was so small and weak, that he looked so very much like a king a god even, a hero come to save us all. When I met him again in King's Landing, only a few months ago, I realized he was just a man." Catelyn's eyes blinked slightly. "He was kind to me, so kind and so-" she paused, breathing in deep. "I know how dear you were to him. How dear you all were. And though I never imagined myself married to his son - to your son - I think if he is anything like his father, if you and Lord Eddard could find love despite the circumstances of your marriage, then perhaps there is hope for us yet."

Catelyn's eyes considered this and many times she watched the woman open her mouth every-so-slightly to speak and then shut it promptly after. They did not share words then, only a glance, blue eyes on blue eyes with similar expressions of mutual respect.

"I wanted my son to choose his wife," she said after clearing her throat again. This time her stature changed. "I never wanted him to marry someone any woman who was not of his his own choosing. I told Ned that our son would marry for love." This time it was Selene who shifted uncomfortably. "Robb deserved a loving wife. A woman with a kind heart who is both selfless and passionate. A woman who could make him smile and bring him joy."

"Instead he was forced to take me," Selene understood.

"And now he is forced to live with that decision, for the rest of his days."

The woman spoke as if Selene was a burden. Perhaps she was but it was no easier to hear the words said aloud, the same idea that Selene had repeated to herself again and again. She and Robb were inconvenient to one another. And yet they were bonded by vows that neither was selfish enough to break. Both of them were trapped with no way out. And she hadn't done anything to make the best of it.

Catelyn bowed her head once more and started towards the door but Selene's voice stopped the woman's steps briefly.

"I am trying," she attempted but Catelyn did not turn. "I am trying to be that woman."

"You'll never be that woman. Accept that, and perhaps you can be some semblance of a wife to my son."

And with that she was gone. And Selene was left breathless and cold.

* * *

[ROBB]

It was a wet morning, the dawn barely breaking over the trees and the horses were as restless as he was.

There was tension in the air and he had a sneaking suspicion his suggestion to his mother had been the cause of it. Selene had been restless the night prior. She had pretended to be asleep when he came to bed and he realized then that they hadn't spoken all day. But as soon as he slipped beneath the furs, feeling the heat radiating off of her skin and onto his, he could almost hear her thoughts as if she was screaming them. Late into the night, when the fire had nearly died in the fireplace across the room, he thought he heard the distinct sound of light sobbing. But he did not mention it.

Now he watched as she saddled her own horse and his mother stood idly off towards her brother and uncle. Every so often the woman would glance towards Selene and then back towards her hands which she wrung together anxiously.

Selene hadn't spoken a word.

His wife's ladies were traveling on the carriage which was packed lightly, much lighter than he had expected, and each was hooded to keep the rain from pouring down over their gowns. Selene however was dressed in a much more practical attire. She wore a simple gown, over riding trousers that he had watched her slip on in the cover of darkness early that morning when she thought he was still asleep.

She hoisted herself up onto her mare with no assistance and settled herself in as her men mounted their own horses around her. Angus was playing in the mud, the dog who had followed his mistress around anxiously all morning as if she was planning to leave him once more.

His mother was at his side, soon, and he looked down at her with concern in his eyes and guilt in hers.

"What did you say to her?" he whispered and she shook her head, turning as if it was nothing.

"I did as you asked. I went to see her and gave her the only guidance I had to offer," she answered softly, tying her cloak tighter around her shoulders and letting Robb hoist her up onto the horse.

"She hasn't spoken to me since yesterday morning. I may have only just met my wife, but I can certainly distinguish when she is upset."

"Is she not always upset?" his mother bit back impatiently and Robb's brows furrowed.

"No," he replied quicker than he meant to. "She's not. Things between her and I are already fragile. I asked you for your help because I will not be by her side for much longer. I know she can be soft, but it takes coaxing. I thought you of all people would be able to help her. But now I'm not so certain I made the right choice."

"Robb-" she begged but a commotion interrupted their quiet dispute and both of them turned.

Selene's mare was standing on it's back legs, neighing wildly as it kicked it's front two in the air. Grey Wind stood at the mare's ankles and the horse bucked anxiously as the direwolf circled it with a watchful gaze. Robb and several of Selene's men ran towards her but she held the reins tightly, waving them off with one free hand and a steady voice. Her eyes were focused, her stance determined as she eased the horse down, stroking it gently whilst simultaneously shouting towards Grey Wind.

Grey was reluctant to step back, watching Angus who was quick to her side in defence of his mistress and Robb watched the large wolfhound dog and the great direwolf beast face off in a territorial battle that neither would win. Because the moment Robb thought Angus would lunge for Grey, Selene's whistle called him off, and Angus slunk behind the horse and followed her as they trotted off in the mud and down the road in the opposite direction of Robb and his direwolf.

Robb quickly mounted, or as quickly as he could with his heavy armor, and went after her. Her slow trot made it easy to catch up and he reached over and grabbed the reins, causing her to look up with a frown.

"Are you alright?" he asked her quickly and in place of what he expected to be a breathless or startled expression, he was only met with confusion.

"Yes, of course. My mare was simply startled. It's nothing I cannot handle," she explained.

"You were nearly thrown off of her. Are you sure she's even safe, getting spooked so easily?"

She did not attempt to yell. She simply glanced at his hands on the reins and then back at him.

"Please," she insisted, lowering her voice. "I do not want to argue today." Robb was caught off guard by her words and their tone.

He let go of the reins, slowly. Her eyes followed his hand when it returned to his own lap and he watched as her eyes levelled on his own. She didn't look angry, only tired and resigned. Robb realized then that he felt quite the same. There were so few moments where they both where comfortable, neither on edge or butting heads. But as they sat there together, neither looking away for the first time since they'd met, he felt oddly at ease.

"Shall we go, My Lady?" he asked and nodded.

They continued on the road, riding side by side as Robb motioned for the rest of their company to follow. Angus ran around excitedly in the rain and when Grey came rushing to Robb's left, he watched anxiously as the two eyed one another. But this time they did not growl or interact, they simply trotted on as if the other did not exist.

At some point, late into the night when the rain had stopped, Selene spoke. They discussed her father's letter, but she did not mention the other piece of parchment he had seen her clinging to, a letter from Shireen. She simply talked about her father's fleet and Robb was happy to listen. Once again she was at ease in her communication of battle plans and strategy. She mentioned Ser Davos and he could hear a warmth in her voice when she spoke of him. She spoke fondly of next to no one except Shireen.

Robb took the opportunity to tell her about Winterfell, and while she had originally seemed averse to the idea of travelling North, he found her listening eagerly as he spoke. He told him about Bran and Rickon, and when he didn't feel a large pang in his chest, he tried to tell her about Arya and Sansa as well. Selene noted that the only thing she knew about brothers were memories of her uncles. It was an awkward topic, they both realized. Robb did not speak Renly's name and yet both of them could not help but be reminded of the youngest Baratheon son and his fate.

They rode through the night and early into the morning until they passed by a small village just a few hours north of Wendish Town. There people were still rebuilding after the Lannister army had ravaged the Riverlands. Most of the young men were with Robb's army in the West. What remained were women, children and elderly, all of whom were working together to bring back their homes and livelihoods. The people stopped as his caravan road through and many of the children were tired and too weak to chase after him eagerly. They simply bowed and whispered to one another and Robb could feel the guilt welling up inside of him.

It was because of him that these people were without homes, without fields of grain that were now burnt to the ground. But it would be like this everywhere he looked for months, years even if this war continued on.

Selene slowed her horse until she came to a stop and stared down at a group of children who sat with sullen eyes and filthy clothes. She shifted uncomfortably, glancing around and then she caught Robb's curious gaze.

"How long until we reach Seagard?" she asked him.

"Another day's ride," he answered and her lips only tightened until they were straight in a line. "If we continue on at the same pace we should be able make camp tonight and reach the castle by mid morning tomorrow."

"We should camp here," she replied quickly.

"Here?"

"Yes," she affirmed. "Our horses are tired, we rode all day yesterday and they need rest, as do we."

"There is a larger village, with an inn for you and your ladies, only a few hours north of here," Robb contradicted.

"My ladies and I do not need beds, My Lord. We can camp here just as well as any of your soldiers."

"I still don't understand," he asked her curiously. "Why here?"

"These people are starving," she told him sternly, dismounting her horse. "They need our help."

He understood then that she felt pity for these people. War had yet to reach the Crownlands and she had yet to see this everywhere she went, as he had. He had wanted to stop and help each person he rode past on the road. But there were always more and he always had less and less to give. He didn't want to admit that war had hardened him, but perhaps it was starting to.

"Selene," he said softly, climbing off his own horse and placing a hand on her shoulder. "We don't have the resources to help them all. We've brought enough to reach Seagard and nothing more."

"My men will have no issue giving up their rations and neither will I," she insisted and her tone was final.

She walked over to a soldier, a large man on a black horse who had traveled with Selene from Pinkmaiden, a man she called Gyff. He was gruff man with about as much enthusiasm as a plank of wood. His expressions matched. She said only a few words and he nodded without surprise or complaint. What little food they did have was loaded out of the wagons and her men immediately began passing it out to the villagers nearby.

"What in Seven Hells is going on," the Blackfish asked upon reaching his side. "Why have we stopped?"

"Tell the men to unload and start making camp, and spare any rations that we can."

"Camp here?" the man asked in surprise. "And where does Her Grace plan to sleep, on the ground like a common soldier? Does she not see there are no beds here?"

"She is quite aware," Robb defended though he had asked the very question only moments prior. "It won't hurt to rest the horses. We've been riding through the night."

"We can't stop every time we see a village like this, Your Grace. There'll be too many."

"We can stop this one time and we'll do what we can," Robb instructed and the Blackfish reluctantly nodded. "Have my mother write to Lady Mallister and inform her of our delay."

The people were grateful of their stop and Robb stayed busy long into the afternoon as did the rest of his men. He heard very few complaints. Even his mother helped to feed the sick where Selene had spent most of the day. She was sitting under a tree, holding a child in her arms as she tried to feed him.

He was small, malnutritioned as if he had not eaten in weeks. She stroked his hair and rocked him in her arms. It wasn't until he heard a mother's sobs that he realized how sick the child was. The child could not garner enough strength to lift his own body, lying helplessly in his wife's arms as she tried to force water down his throat. But he only coughed it back up and Selene would try again.

This went on for hours, until the sun set and all the rations were passed out. Robb couldn't bear to eat knowing so many had given up their own. He did not bother to make a tent as he slept out under the stars. The sky was clear and the fire was warm. And after a long days work, he laid himself down onto the furs where Selene was, staring up at the night sky with eyes glazed. He didn't plan to speak until he heard her voice over the sound of crickets in the grass.

"That child died in my arms today," she whispered and he turned his head from the stars to his wife whose gaze was far away. "I couldn't help him."

"You helped a dozen of others," he reminded her and she shook her head.

"He was so starved, I could feel his bones. He could barely open his eyes," she explained, clearing her throat once.

"He won't be the last," he said softly. "I plan to lay siege to Casterly Rock, and your father wants to hold King's Landing. Many more people will die. Children will die."

"I understand you think me foolish for stopping today," she told him, her eyes falling from the sky to meet his. He could see water in them.

"I do not think you foolish, Selene," he replied honestly. "I want to help these people, all of them. But I can do very little until the enemy that did this to them is defeated."

"I see them, and - and I see me," she admitted. "I remember starving, what it is like to be without for so long that you no longer feel hunger, that there is only pain and weakness." He furrowed his brow in confusion. "I'm sorry I just can't watch them starve, not if I can do something about it. At Storm's End I watched my father lose many people. I was almost one of them."

He remembered then, the siege during Robert's Rebellion. The year long struggle Stannis and his men suffered as they held the Baratheon seat against Mace Tyrell's loyalist army. It had been his father who lifted the siege and he remembered hearing stories of the horrors he found when they finally did.

"Ser Davos saved us, because he could not bear to know people were dying while he had the ability to help. I know that times are hard here. But so long as I have enough to give, I cannot sit idly by as people die of starvation. Not these people. Our people," she added.

He agreed with her. How could he not. She spoke sense with wisdom and compassion in a way he had hardly witnessed since leaving Winterfell so many months ago. And now here she was, bringing him back to what mattered most of all. He could not sit back idly and watch them suffer either. Who was he fighting for if not them, his people - their people?

He didn't know why he did what he did next. But there was something in the way she spoke, the way her eyes would not leave his and the closeness of her body to his that made him reach out to her and he grabbed her hand in his. He squeezed it only once but did not let go of it as they stayed there like that. She flinched only slightly when his hand grazed hers but she did not pull back. She glanced down at their touching fingers as if observing something foreign to her. It was foreign to them both.

But neither seemed to mind.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for another round of fantastic reviews. You guys are wonderful and I am beyond excited that I've been keeping you all entertained through the first few chapters. I have much planned for the future of the war and Selene and Robb. Please keep bringing on your thoughts. They are so fun to read! -Lola  
**


	9. Chapter Eight

****| Chapter Eight |****

* * *

SELENE

Seagard reminded her too much of home. The seaside on a stormy afternoon as the waves crashed into the cliffside was very much the same as it was at Storm's End. It had been years since she'd seen home and she wasn't sure she'd ever see it again.

She stood staring out the window, waiting for the her men to finish reviewing her maps. Her plans were laid out on the large table in Jason Mallister's study. Twenty of her most experienced captains had filed into the room and listened to her propositions. All of them had been at her side throughout her many years of training, each one offering her sound advice at one time or another. If she was going to leave her fleet to anyone, it would be to these men.

She saw Robb approach her from the corner of her eye and he stood at her side, looking out the window with his hands behind his back. He didn't speak at first as she watched the ocean moving below. The skies were grey and a light mist of rain descended down from the clouds. It was when he glanced at her that she knew he would speak.

"Have you decided who will take your place?" he asked her. "They all seem up to the task."

"They're all eager to prove themselves, not just to me it seems," she replied and by the smile he tried to hide in the corner of his mouth it seemed he found her comment amusing. "Julian is the most experienced of all my captains. He is tried in both combat at war and with the Ironborn. Oswyn is well-versed in strategy, however. Perhaps the most knowledgeable of all of my men."

"And you wish to choose between them?" Robb asked and she shook her head.

"No," she said simply. "I wish to choose them both."

He was about to ask her what she meant but she turned and made her way towards the table where the chatter of her men stopped and each of them looked up at her in silence. She placed her hands on the map, flattening it out as it curled up at the edges and she took a small ship in her hand. She toyed with it only a moment, reminded of Allard's ship which had set sail the day she was told she was to marry Robb Stark. She then placed it nearest to Pyke.

"If we want to take Casterly Rock, we have only one obstacle," she spoke, her voice projected across the room and the men straightened. "The King has asked Balon Greyjoy for an alliance, a request the man refuses to acknowledge. This fleet is larger and more powerful than anything the Ironborn could put before us. And it is our ships that will succeed in winning the west for the King in the North." The men nodded as she spoke. "Because we do not know what Lord Greyjoy plans to do with his ships, he could very well be waiting for any potential movement through thier bay. I propose to you that we split our fleet, send half in the direction of Pyke, straight on towards the coast and Casterly Rock itself. The other will go around the Iron Islands, westward."

"A safeguard?" Oswyn asked and she nodded. He seemed pleased by her strategy.

"My Queen, if I may speak?" Julian's deep voice inquired.

"It is what I asked you here for," she retorted, her eyes expectant.

"While your proposition is, indeed, the sensible option, I still am not certain that thirty-seven ships is enough to take the Rock," he pointed out.

"My Queen, the Rock has left only a sparse number of it's own ships to defend the Lannister holdings," Oswyn interrupted. "Thirty-seven of our Baratheon ships, with the other half only days behind, will prove to be plenty."

"It is a valid concern," Selene maintained. "I concede that there is some risk, especially if we lose two or three ships against the Ironborn. However," she turned then to Oswyn. "Your scouts have proved useful in divulging the location of Tywin Lannister's ships, have they not?"

"Yes, Your Grace," he replied swiftly.

"What do they report?"

"Lord Tywin's fleet is a mere thirty-two ships in total, the bulk of which are located in the bay nearest Lannisport and the Rock. However, there are a fair few dispersed up and down the coast, allowing for less protection in key areas, here" he reached towards the map pointing out the most strategic points of attack. "Here and here as well."

"And any word yet about Redwyne's ships?" she asked Julian. "Has he sent any of his fleet from the Arbor to protect the west?"

"Most of Lord Redwyne's ships are being consigned to the Tyrell force. Since the Tyrells have refused to side with His Grace, King Stannis, their loyalties are still questionable. I've heard their movements have been mostly east, though I have directed that Ser Gilbert alert us of any news of Redwyn's movements near Storm's End."

"Should there be any ships left behind?" Oswyn questioned and Selene realized she had not yet thought of guarding her new home. She had seventy-five ships, more than enough to take the Rock twice over. But not once had she thought of any potential attack on the North. The coastal strongholds in the North had few ships that she knew of. She knew Bear Island had no more than a handful of galley ships and their port was mostly overrun with cogs. The small ships were good for trade but little else aside from that. Neither would be sufficient against any real naval threat.

She glanced to Robb.

"How many of your lords own Whalers, Your Grace?" she asked him and Robb seemed surprised that she had addressed him.

"I would say there are five or six at best stationed near the Bay of Seals. Lord Karstark's men command these. Lady Maege Mormont has a few near outside the Bay of Ice but I know she keeps them out during most of the whaling season."

"If it pleases you, husband, I will write to them and have them return to the coast, at least as a last line of defence. I have a few galleys I can spare and I will have my father send some as well."

Robb smiled at this and she felt her cheeks grow hot. She did not look back at her men, afraid they would see the pink flush rising in her face.

"It would please me, indeed."

When she felt she could finally contain the blush in her cheeks, relinquishing her gaze upon her husband, she continued devising the logistics of the plan they were to put into action. It was over an hour of discussion. Each captain brought up something that could go wrong and they would concoct a solution that would suffice should the need ever arise.

But soon her biggest omission came to light with a simple question from Julian's squire. The boy was ten and three, a bright boy called Stannis after her father. He was Ser Davos' sixth son.

"But which ship will you command, My Queen?" he asked and Selene watched her men's expressions change. They were eager, each of them, to serve by her side.

Suddenly Robb was much too close, his request much too fresh in her mind. She reminded herself, for the umteenth time, that she had agreed to this, that she was Queen in the North and her presence was needed elsewhere. Far from her men and far from her ships. She wanted to be graceful, to be unfeeling but the anger still lingered on as she clenched the edge of the table to quell the outburst struggling to get out. She opted for a deep breath.

"As of right now, the North is left with little supervision. Until the war has come to an end, Winterfell will be in my care," she explained, her voice level. Her men looked at her with confused expressions. "In my place, I have designated the power of command to two men whom I have the utmost faith in carrying out our plan and helping your King take the West. Julian, you will act as commander, in place of me, of the thirty-six I will send in direct course to Casterly Rock."

"It is an honor, My Queen," replied Julian, bowing his head respectfully.

"Oswyn, I trust you command the remainder of the fleet and guide them West, around the Islands. You will take our fastest ships."

"Yes, My Queen," Oswyn agreed, bowing his head in the same manner as Julian had.

She could see that both were genuinely pleased with their appointments and the trust she was bestowing upon them. But her biggest concern was splitting the two of them. She could not give one command and not the other. Both, while friends, were also somewhat rivals. Each had opinions in strategy and combat that differed from the other. This was why she needed them both.

"We will stay in communication throughout the duration. Oswyn's scouts will keep us informed of any and all movements of Lord Tywin's allies. Also, I should not need to remind you all how important the Baratheon-Stark alliance is. Our plans are still, as of yet, unknown by most of the kingdoms. My father is preparing to take King's Landing and our King will take the West. The bastard Joffrey cannot fight a war on both fronts and so long as our alliance stays strong and secret, there is little that can prevent us from taking winning this war."

There was a brief cheer from the men, excited by their lust for battle. She had known these men most of her life and she knew that while she did not like the idea of giving up control, that she could trust them to do anything she asked. She felt confident that if she asked them to throw themselves into the sea that they would do so gladly.

* * *

ROBB

It had taken him nearly an hour before he was able to get his mother to confess what she'd said to Selene. And when she spoke the words, Robb felt a disappointment in him rise in a way he had thought he could never feel about his own mother.

His mother, this woman whom he admired, who had stood at his side and was his stronghold during this war, during his father's death, during his engagement. And now she had let him down so greatly. He needed her. He needed his mother, now more than ever. Robb had a new wife, a strong-willed and fickle wife who he knew so little about. What did he know about women? He needed his mother to help soothe relations between them, to help him find a way to love this woman that was now his.

And she had done it all on a whim of poor judgement.

"She's as lost as I am, mother. You've only made it more miserable for her, for me as well."

"I cannot help the way I feel. I fear she is her father's daughter, Robb. I know what that man is capable of," Catelyn retorted and Robb shook his head.

"I have seen very little that would suade me into believing she is capable of such evil. She may have inherited his lack of charisma but that is not a fault I would condemn her for." Her frown only deepened and she turned her head in shame. "You agreed this was the best option. I am dealing with it. It is time you dealt with it as well."

"And I am supposed to trust that she has your best interests at heart?" Catelyn's voice rose as she spoke.

"She is, at the very, least setting aside her own interests. I asked her to leave her ships and her men to take over my duties at Winterfell. While she may have been reluctant, she agreed, nonetheless."

"It is what is expected of her, she must know that," Catelyn scoffed.

"And yet if you had seen the way her men respect her, the way they strive to please her, you would have seen how difficult it was for her to do what is 'expected of her'. She should be out there, on the seas, commanding our fleet and yet she is doing as I've asked her."

"And if this war is through, and Stannis Baratheon sits on the Iron Throne? What if he goes back on his word to let you keep the North? Do you think Selene will stand by your side when her father summons her back?" He did not answer her because deep down he knew it was a question he had asked himself many times. "Once she has your heir, you are of no further use to her. And once Stannis dies, the Iron Throne passes to her. What is to stop her from taking everything?"

"Do you hear yourself?"

"Do you?" she asked just as quickly. "You are quick to find her timid and unassuming but you and I have both seen her with her men. She isn't a shy little flower, Robb, no matter how she plays one in your presence."

"I won't hear any more of this," he wanted to shout but it came out as an angry sigh.

He spun around, intending to leave the room and letting her sit there in her anger but she placed her hand around his arm, stopping him in his place. He did not look at her but he could tell she would be disapproving of his outburst. He trusted his mother and she was letting him down when he needed her most.

"Robb," she whispered. "I know you don't want to hear ill of her. But you have to face the reality that she is a Baratheon. Her loyalties lie with her father. While I do not fault her that, I cannot find it in myself to trust that she will be loyal to you when it might benefit her otherwise."

He didn't know how to answer her then. Of course there was a chance that Selene's loyalties might waver should the alliance crumble. But it was his responsibility, as well as hers, to ensure it did not. Heir or not, their kingdoms would be bound once succession was restored. Whatever happened after they would figure out when the time came.

"If you want to ensure her loyalties, mother," he began, still not looking at her. "Then stop telling her she'll never belong."

And with that he left, knowing his words were harsh but necessary. His mother didn't try to stop him this time and he closed the door behind him as he made his way down the corridor. The hour had grown late somehow, and as he walked through the courtyard, his cloak clutched around his shoulders, he wondered when it had gotten so dark. There were only a few of his men circled around the fire, laughing as they clutched what looked like horns of ale.

The staircase up to his rooms felt infinite, and with each subsequent step he sighed, knowing the night would be full of guilt-ridden stares and awkward silence. But when he entered the room he was met with a sight that was much to the contrary.

Selene was sitting atop the bed which was covered in heavy Northern furs. She was sitting cross-legged, a large book on her lap. She held a goblet in her right hand whilst her left hand suppressed a giggle, a sound that distracted him from his frustration nearly as much as the way her nightgown fell off her shoulder. He noticed the flesh was marred slightly, light pink and distorted. But he didn't get a chance to look at it for long, as the door shut behind him and she jumped, the wine in her hand spilling and she shouted a surprised expletive. It was a sight that he could not help but find amusing and while he tried to hold back his laugh, it came out loudly and uninhibited.

She crawled off of the bed, adjusting her robe over her shoulder and started pulling at the furs which were now wine-stained red. She was cursing under her breath as she pulled them over towards the corner of the room. Robb grabbed the goblet and the book from the floor but as soon as he started to read the title of the book she had been so amused by, he felt her grab hold of it.

He looked up at her and saw her cheeks flush a bright shade of pink and her gaze refused to meet his own. They were at a standstill, both pulling equally on the book and neither willing to relinquish their hold on the thing. Robb took the time to let his eyes graze over the title and it was suddenly apparent that she was embarrassed.

"An Education in Love-Making?" he asked with a smirk on his lips and she slapped her hands over her face in shame but he could have sworn he saw her hiding a grin as well.

"I-," she begged and he heard a distinct giggle, muffled by her fingers. "I didn't realize you'd be back so soon."

"I knew you were a reader, Selene, but I had no idea you were interested in _this_ type of literature," he teased and to his surprise she didn't scowl. Her blush only deepened.

"I'm not...that is to say it's not mine. I-" she paused again, her words stammered. "I was in the library, browsing the shelf and-oh I don't know why I grabbed it I just thought-." When he didn't answer, her frown reappeared. "You think I'm foolish, don't you?"

"On the contrary," he whispered. "I find it quite endearing."

"Endearing?" she asked skeptically. "You catch me reading a book about...sex...and you find it endearing?"

"Why not? Am I supposed to be angry?"

"It isn't exactly very respectable," she reminded him. "I can't say that I recall my Septa adding this to her list of sophisticated literature for young ladies."

"Well I suppose you aren't a young lady any longer," he retorted and shrugged off his doublet. "I find nothing obscene about a married woman educating herself." He frowned as he struggled with the ties of his tunic and after several moments of watching him fumble with the knot she swatted his hands away and took over, impatiently. "Though I am embarrassed to say that your education will soon surpass my own."

Her fingers slipped at his words and she looked up at him, eyes wide and aghast at his comment. At her expression he laughed once more and grabbed hold of her hands. She did not flinch much, only stared up at him with a new expression that made his laughter die slowly. She attempted to continue at his ties, looking back down in concentration. As she pulled at the ties he loosed his grip only slightly, letting his hands travel down over her wrists as she worked. He allowed his eyes to linger on her lips, wine-red and her breath sweet.

She finally let loose the ties, pulling them apart and unlacing his tunic until he was fully capable of taking care of the rest on his own. But when she looked up at him expectantly and did not attempt to pull away, Robb felt the strangest twinge in his stomach as their eyes locked.

"Can I get you some wine, Your Grace?" she whispered and while he was in no hurry to let her go, he nodded.

She pulled her hands from his and walked slowly over towards the table, taking her own cup and filling it as well. She carried the cups carefully, concentrating on each step as if she had already had her fill. They stood in silence as the fire cracked nearby and he set his eyes upon her form. Her cheeks had returned to their natural tone but he decided he was much fonder of the pink in them.

"You won't tell anyone?" she insisted. "I couldn't bare to have your men laughing at me, or your mother for that matter."

The words made him briefly remember his argument with his mother but he opted not to linger on the the thought too long. He, took her cheek in his hand and let his thumb graze over the small freckle at the side of her mouth. He heard her breath catch in her throat.

"It stays between us, wife," he whispered and her eyes closed at his words.

"I am not sure how reliable of a book it is anyways," she admitted offhandedly. "Many of the things it describes-well I just couldn't imagine they would truly pleasure a man."

Robb thought for a moment he might ask her to what she was referring. In fact, he meant to but he was too preoccupied by the curve in the very left corner of her mouth. In that moment he realized something. Despite his mother's words, Selene's homesickness and disappointment in him over sending her to Winterfell, despite the fact that a child had died in her arms only two days prior, she was smiling. It may have been small, easily missed by anyone who had not studied her mouth as diligently as he had, but it was there.

He wasn't sure when she began touching him, but her hand had somehow slipped from his own and slid over his chest, her fingertips lightly grazing the dark curls on his chest and up over his collar bone with as much ease as if she'd done it a thousand times. If a touch could intoxicate he was sure his head was already spinning.

He wasn't sure of his movements as he leaned towards her, watching her eyes full of wonder and curiosity. Their lips were inches apart as they breathed the same air, their wine hinted breaths mixed and now it was her eyes that were so focused downwards, at his mouth. He wanted to slow down, to ensure that her intoxication had not clouded her judgement but something in the air or something in the way she watched him with eyes that glittered in the firelight, left him too bewitched to tell the difference.

Their lips grazed, just slightly enough that he felt a brisk jolt in his stomach. But as soon as he thought he'd take more of lips, of her kiss when there was a curt knock on the heavy wooden door. It was a sound that had the ability to sober both of them in that moment, and neither seemed to notice until then how hurried their breaths were.

The knock came again, along with the voice of one of Selene's ladies and they both turned and beckoned her in at the same time. Her voice was strangled slightly, his voice husky and full of untamed desire that he had not known until the moment he thought he might kiss her.

The door opened to Aida pushing a small cart, a covered plate on top and he realized Selene must have ordered dinner in their rooms for that evening. He hadn't realized he was hungry until then when his stomach growled and both ladies did their best not to snicker at the timing of it. Aida uncovered the plate for them, lighting the candles on the small table nearest the fire.

"Shall I ring for a bath, Your Grace?" the young woman asked and it took him a moment before Robb realized she was speaking to him. He shook his head, a bit too quickly.

"No," he replied, clearing his throat. "I will not need one until tomorrow, after the hunt."

"You're hunting tomorrow?" Selene asked and Aida took her leave as the two sat down the allotted chairs just across from each other. As hungry as Robb was he was still much too bemused to think of the food as he watched her cross her legs, her gown rising slightly to reveal the milky flesh of her thigh.

"I-" he started, finding that his throat once again was in need of clearing. "I thought it best that we give Lady Mallister a feast to express our gratitude for her hospitality."

"That is indeed a kind gesture," she said, her voice low as she cut served him a still-hot bowl of stew. "When will you return south?" she asked then, her eyes lowered as she served herself and her seriousness gradually returned.

"In a week, I believe," he answered. "I need time to gather what supplies I can for the ships and your men, as well as anything I can use to help draw some of Tywin Lannister's army west whilst your father sails for King's Landing."

"You think it will be soon?" she asked skeptically and Robb shrugged.

"He has given me reason to believe it could be as soon as a months time from now. Thanks to you, I can successfully launch my campaign in the West, draw Tywin out from the Crownlands and allow your father to lay siege to King's Landing long enough to starve out the Lannister bastards."

"Once Storm's End is secured," she reminded him. "My father still battles for the Stormlands to ensure more support is garnered. If he can persuade the Tyrells, then our forces will take the East and the West. Not even Lord Tywin's gold could buy him victory then."

The both grinned at her jest but both knew how heavy a Tyrell alliance would weigh upon this war. Neither speculated aloud, knowing that there was little chance of Mace Tyrell bargaining with Stannis. Not only had the Baratheon-Tyrell alliance been on thin ice since the Siege of Storm's End had been lifted during Robert's Rebellion, but there was also the mysterious death of Renly Baratheon to take into consideration. And both Robb and Selene knew under which circumstances he had been assassinated.

"Even without the Tyrells, I still hold the Kingslayer," he reminded her and her eyes widened.

"I had nearly forgotten," she replied, mouth agape. "Tywin is bound to tread carefully with his heir as your hostage. Though I heard the Imp has been sent to King's Landing in his place to act as Hand of the King since-" she stopped then, swallowing slightly and diverting her gaze from his.

All playfulness had been lost in a split second of bad memories. But Robb reached across the table and placed his fingers over hers, just gently and he was surprised when she didn't flinch. She only stared at them and then at him, letting her blue eyes rise to meet his own full of guilt.

"I shouldn't have-" she started to say but he stopped her.

"Please," he protested softly. "I'd rather not pretend as if he never existed."

She nodded but it did not replace the easy conversation they had previously had. All the joy had been suffocated in one brief near-mention of his father and he wished it hadn't. But he couldn't stop thinking about him then, his father who he was determined to avenge. His noble father who had died trying to protect the kingdoms.

"I told your mother, whilst we were at Riverrun, how I remembered him as a child," she whispered, and her voice was kind, much softer than he remembered it. "When I saw you, in your armor and covered in filth," she started. "I thought then that you looked a great deal like he did at Storm's End, when he came to lift the siege so many years ago."

"You saw him then?"

"I was just a girl, too young to remember much. But I remembered him. I remembered him standing before my father and he looked down at me. I was mesmerized. I had never seen anyone look so heroic in all my life. My father only spoke well of him. Even after all these years." Robb found something comforting in her words, knowing that she had known him, however briefly. "My father would never admit it, but I know he blames himself for Lord Stark's death. If he hadn't worked with Jon Arryn, and fled so abruptly after his death, then perhaps your father would not have been so invested in what they were searching for."

"And if he hadn't, then the kingdoms would never have known the truth of Joffrey's parentage. Our fathers fought for the truth. No one is to blame but the Lannisters. They tried to kill my brother, they executed my father, and they hold my sisters captive."

"And they will suffer for it," Selene promised, her voice low and her vow dark. "They have not just wronged you. House Baratheon ends with me and my sister. If I had been the son my father so desperately craved, then I would be able to continue our line. But the Lannisters have tainted the Baratheon name. I will not have Lannister blood claim our birthright."

Robb thought then of his mother's warning. Would Selene abandon him for the lust of her own kingdom. If she became the Queen on the Iron Throne how could they hope to rule both kingdoms from the North. Would she seek to claim it all? Looking at her before he could not imagine her treachery. But hearing her dark words, her talk of Baratheon and Lannister, it made him wonder if such a thing were possible.

But he did not bother to mention it then. He instead let the silence fall into something much more comfortable as they ate their meal together, both trying to temporarily forget the past. Robb could feel something inside of him changing as he watched her. But he wasn't sure if it would be for the better, or if she would be the death of him.

* * *

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****A/N: So this chapter was a bit sparse, but I didn't want to hit on too many things in one chapter. I am blown away by the response I've gotten to this story in the last few weeks. Thank you so much to all of those who reviewed and PM'd with such lovely words of encouragement. I am so excited to continue on and see where this journey leads them. Please continue to let me know what you all think of the story. Your reviews and messages really are the best encouragement I could ask for.********


	10. Chapter Nine

**| Chapter Nine |**

**A/N: Hi guys, sorry for the large time gap between posts. Hopefully this chapter will make up for it. I am not going to leave a huge author's note but I wanted to say a huge thank you to all of you readers and reviewers. You truly make writing this story worth while. Thank you for all the positive feedback and constructive criticism for those of you reviewing and PMing me. I hope the story and characters continue to improve for you. Now, onto the story...and I'm heading over to start chapter ten right now! Enjoy! **

* * *

**SELENE**

It was a small party of four, herself accompanied by her husband, his squire, and one of her lady's maids, Alys. It was a dreary afternoon, the clouds hanging so low in the sky that the fog did not clear until nearly midday. They rode on horseback down towards the docks where men were preparing her ships for war.

Supplies were carried this way and that way, the men bustling around her in a manner that pleased her greatly. She was happy to show her husband the smooth efficiency of the men she commanded. Each man had a job and the job was completed without complaint - at least none within her earshot. Robb took everything in with a boyish grin that betrayed his previous stoic efforts. Selene found that despite her desire to remain indifferent, she was growing fond of that grin, the one that reminded her he was still very young indeed. Not just a king, but a young man.

They parted ways when she spotted her ship, "Godsgrief", named for King Durran the first, the very first Storm King. It had been built for her by her grandfather, Steffon Baratheon for her name day when he thought Stannis would present his father with a grandson. Much to his disappointment, he received instead a granddaughter and bequeathed only his temperament upon her, or at least that was how her father told the story when she was a young girl. On her tenth name day, her father finally presented it to her and it was that moment when she knew that she wanted to rule the seas.

The deck was pristine and bustling with activity as Julian stood amongst them, his arms crossed over his chest as he stood tall, the honor of first commander evident in his features. He caught her eye for a brief moment, but he then commanded each man to pause their movements. They turned towards her, dropping immediately to their knees as she approached them and she felt this new burden clenching harding around her chest. She was their Queen, she reminded herself but she could not help herself in motioning for them to stand.

"My Queen, your presence is an honor," he beamed and she nodded once in acknowledgement as she took in the sight of her ship in command of someone else. It felt all wrong.

"I could not allow you to leave without seeing her one last time," she admitted. "Who have you appointed as your second?" she asked him and he glanced over the crowd until he spotted the figure he was searching for.

"Gwayne, my nephew," he answered and she recognized recognized the young man by name and by reputation. It was a good choice. "He is wise for his age and strong. I have no doubt in his abilities."

"Then neither do I," she agreed immediately. "I have faith in your reasoning. Now, who is your navigator?"

"Allard Seaworth, of course," he told her and the name caused her to pause her casual observations of the crew and her eyes snapped up.

"Allard?" she questioned, her voice as steady as she could bear and he nodded. "No finer navigator in your fleet as I recall. Except perhaps you, My Queen."

"No need for flattery, Julian," she tried to tease but her eyes were now frantically searching over the men for the face she seemed to have overlooked. "Carry on," she told him. "I can see she's in good hands."

She kept her eyes peeled as Julian returned to his work. Soon enough she found herself below deck, a place that was relatively empty aside from a few young squires bustling about the galley. It wasn't until a pair of hands pulled her into a dark corner and her hand immediately went to the dagger on her hip that she found who she sought out.

"Miss me, love?" he whispered, his hand covering her mouth and her fingers loosened around the dagger's hilt. Her heart was pounding as she took a step back, pushing his arms from around her waist.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, looking over her shoulder to ensure their privacy. But everyone was too busy to notice things taking place in the darker corners of the ship's kitchen. "I thought you were sent to the Bite?"

"I was," he told her, his grip firm and the touch of his hands on the bare flesh of her skin made her tremble and his nearness gave her a feeling of unease. "I heard of the wedding," she informed her and her eyes fell slightly. "I had to see you. My father would not tell me anything."

"It had to be done," she whispered. "Our alliance with House Stark is crucial to my father's campaign."

"And he forced you to marry the King in the North on behalf of some deal?"

"I wasn't forced, Allard," she corrected. "I did what had to be done. It is what was best for my House and my family."

"You did not want this," he tried to remind her and she frowned.

"It does not matter what I wanted, it has never mattered and you knew that. We both did," she replied sternly. She realized then, as he held her hands in his, that she was not as prepared for this conversation as she had convinced herself. "I should go," she whispered but her voice shook slightly.

"Please, I'm sorry," he pleaded. "I needed to see you. I needed to know that you still love me."

"Allard," she warned. He spilled dangerous words, words she had never admitted to herself, let alone aloud to anyone and now she never could. "Don't say such things. I am Robb's wife now. I should not even be here with you, let alone speaking to you in such a way."

"But it is true, isn't it? You love me, at least tell me that," he pleaded but his voice was harder. He was not begging like a desperate man to his lover - not that they had ever been so intimate. But instead, he commanded her.

She pulled her arm from his and this time she did not allow him to touch her.

"I will not answer your questions and you would do well not to ask them again," she insisted, this time her voice steady and assertive.

"Selene-" he started and she whipped around quickly.

"You will address me as 'Your Grace' or 'My Queen'. Anything else suggests a familiarity that I cannot afford, are we clear?!" She nearly shouted the words.

"Am I to understand then that your feelings-"

"Are none of your concern. You chose to be here. Therefore, you are now part of the King in the North's navy. You will fight under Stark banners and you will respect your King. And that means our relationship ceases from this point forward."

He did not nod, or agree. He simply stood there, staring at her, their eyes level and his frown deepening with each silent second that passed.

"This is how it is to be then?" he sneered, taking one step towards her so that her back was flush with the wall as she tried to keep the distance in tact. "You toss me aside the moment I am an inconvenience. I was just the simple amusement of some desperate little girl who wasn't ready to face reality? Is that it?"

"Do not pretend as if anything could have become of this," she hissed. "You knew long ago that I was not free to marry at will. I have never given you the impression that my heart was free so do not attempt to make me at fault here."

He laughed then, a haughty laugh she had heard many times. She once found it an attractive sound, but directed at her she finally understood the effect.

"You thought I wanted to marry you?" The words stung as he spoke them. "Don't be daft, love. Marriage is the one thing I knew better than to desire from you."

She could feel the anger boiling in her blood, simmering up through her chest and the lump forming in throat felt like fire about to burst. She stepped towards him, so close that he would feel her breath off of his skin.

"Careful, Allard Seaworth. You may seek to crush my heart but do remember I am a Queen. I could crush you and no one would mourn you," she threatened and she thought perhaps it was the softest her voice had ever sounded.

The weight of the words struck him hard. She could see his efforts to contain himself as he stood there. She turned, this time uninhibited, to leave. She knew his admission was a harsh one, one that she could not think about now with so many prying eyes in her direction as she emerged back into the daylight on deck.

Alys found her shortly after and told her that the King required her presence on Oswyn's ship. She was happy to escape the scene she had just been caught up in and she did not even look back over her shoulder to see if Allard was nearby when she left the ship and followed Alys down the docks.

They had to row out to where Oswyn's ship was anchored out in the bay and she saw the captain standing on deck when they approached, awaiting her arrival. She had little trouble getting up on deck, her dress much heavier than what she was used to, but Oswyn reached over and helped her up with one easy pull. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt hands clasp her shoulders from behind.

"Easy there, wife," Robb laughed and she felt her relief though her heart still pounded wildly beneath her chest. "It is just I."

"You certainly know how to startle a woman," she gasped with some attempt at a smile but she knew she looked more distraught than pleased.

Regardless, he pulled at her hand and she had no time to protest before he pulled her over to a table where maps and papers were being weighed down with rocks so as not to blow away. She thought it was a rather peculiar place to keep such items and she made a note to discuss it with Oswyn later.

He stopped her just short of the table, turning her around and while she was still reeling from her encounter with Allard, she found his glance comforting as she looked up into his blue eyes. He was smiling again and she wanted so very much to smile back. But he didn't not seem to expect it. For that she was grateful.

"I never gave you a wedding present," he told her and when she started to protest, he interrupted her. "You have given me more than enough and I have been remiss as a husband. You are my Queen and I hope that this gift can show how much that means to me."

His eyes danced joyfully as he turned her around to face the table where a large drawing was laid out across it. She only need a moment before her eyes focused and it was clear immediately what she was looking at. She stepped closer so that her fingers could graze over the parchment.

"It's a ship," she whispered, in awe of it's magnificence, a ship so grand that she could not help but trace her fingers over every inch of it.

"Not just any ship," Robb whispered, leaning over her so that his breath tickled the back of her neck. She felt her breath quicken. "It is your ship, My Lady."

"Winter's Fury?" she asked as her eyes reached the words on the stern of the drawing and he grinned.

"I thought it appropriate, no?" he asked her and she nodded, feeling her lips pulling at the corners.

"It is indeed," she replied. "Do you mean to say that you've commissioned this ship to be built?"

"We may not be known for our ships in the North, but I thought if Selene Baratheon was to be Queen in the North then she ought to have the finest ship to have ever sailed the Shivering Sea."

"Robb. You shouldn't have," she tried to insist but her eyes were still taking in every inch of the drawing before her.

"Aye, I should have," he contradicted. "You've given up your ship for my war. It's the least I can do to provide you with one even more grand. One built in your honor."

She didn't noticed the people around her, only her husband whose hand she grasped in her own. She wanted to say something, then, that would relay the amount of gratitude she felt in her heart for him in that moment but all she could do was hold onto his hand as she caught his eyes and something in his own said that was enough for him.

She only wished it had been enough for her.

* * *

**ROBB**

The number of days until his departure was dwindling, much faster than he had initially anticipated, and now that the weeks transformed into days and now mere hours, he felt that his war was now weighing heavy over his head once again.

War had been hard. It was full of blood and death, dark thoughts that drove him mad with hatred for the Lannisters and their allies. Not only had the burden of war been placed upon his shoulders much too young, but he began to feel as though he had started a war he could not finish. He fought for his father, for his sisters and his home. But he had failed his father, and perhaps his sisters as well. All he was sure of was his home.

The North.

He woke with a start, death once again haunting his dreams in the darkest part of the night. He sat up, careful not to wake Selene, and he pulled the fur from his body as he slipped out and he made his way towards where his empty goblet sat. He poured what was left of the pitcher into it and let the flavor hang off of his lips as he gulped it down.

Grey Wind stirred slightly, lifting his head from the furs on the floor nearest to the fire. Angus on the other hand seemed even less interested. He didn't bother lifting his head from his near Grey. He just opened his eyes momentarily, yawned, and then commenced his snoring once more.

There was moonlight, faint but distinct. He stood next to the window and looked out over the sea as he had seen Selene doing so many times before. He thought of her standing in his rooms at Winterfell, and instead looking out over the moors. Would she hate him for sending her there, he wondered? Soon there would be snow on the ground with Winter finally descending upon them. She would be stuck in her fortress of snow and he couldn't help but hope he would get a chance to see her there with his own eyes.

He glanced down at the window seat, upon which a neat stack of papers were slid partially into a book he had seen Selene reading earlier that day. He normally wasn't the type of person to snoop in other people's things, but on the bottom of what looked like a letter, he saw her looped signature signed after 'your loving sister' and in his restless state he thought perhaps he would give it just a glance. He looked over his shoulder to see his wife, facing the opposite direction with her chest rising and falling at a steady pace.

It started as he assumed it would:

_My Dearest Shireen,_

_It has been only a few weeks but it feels like months since I've seen you. I cannot tell you where I am, but I will admit that you would not be overly impressed. It is nothing so fine as your King's Landing and there are certainly no dragons here. But it reminds me of home and therefore I think of you increasingly with each passing day._

_I am adjusting well to my new life, or at least I feel as though I am. It is a strange new life but one that I feel as though I am embracing as well as can be expected. Julian sends well-wishes for your name day and with them a special gift from his crew, enclosed in this letter. I will not spoil the surprise but I think you'll find you can add it to your collection._

_I leave for my new home soon and I will take on many new responsibilities. I am confident that I will learn quickly and adapt much easier than I did in King's Landing. I will run my own household, but as you know that is an idea that has never intimidated me. They say it could be snowing when I arrive though I am not sure if I fill find it hardship or folly. I can't even remember the last snow at Storm's End._

_As for your question, yes, I do think it is possible. I would never have expected it before but now I find myself warming to the idea. It is difficult to explain the exact way that I feel. It is peculiar and altogether the most vulnerable I have ever felt. I can only admit that to you. I'd be much too embarrassed to tell him that. But I think, perhaps one day, long after this war is a footnote in one of your history books, I do think perhaps things could change._

_At any rate, I can't write much and I apologize for my vagueness. But I promise my next letter will go into excruciating detail, so much so that you may get tired of reading about it._

_I do miss you, my sweet Shireen. I pray for your health and happiness._

_Your Loving Sister,  
Selene_

Robb found the letter strangely warming. Words written by his wife in a manner he had only briefly glimpsed. He laid the letter back down, just as he'd found it and turned to where she was now lying towards him, her eyes still closed and her mouth open just slightly. He walked towards the bed, sitting on the edge as he watched her chest rise and fall. He decided then that he had been wrong about her before. Upon first seeing her, he had thought her pretty but nothing spectacular. But now that he saw her like this, read her words and had seen her smile. He decided she was something altogether more than "pretty" could ever suffice.

He could not help himself as he reached out towards her, brushing his fingertips over one long strand of dark hair that contrasted with the white linen of the pillow. Had she softened towards him, he wondered? Without seeing Shireen's letter he could not be sure about the question she had posed her sister, however it was Selene's answer that gave him a soft glimmer of hope in his heart.

He had not wished it to be there. While he had always hoped to marry for love, he also had hoped there would be no need for war or bloodshed. That his father would be spared, that his sisters would be sent home. That Bran would walk again. Now that he was in this other world, this dark and dangerous place, he did not wish for love. He did not want to think about her or for something to happen to him just as she was starting to warm to the idea of having him as her husband.

'What-ifs' swarmed his mind. What if he was killed and she was left to the mercy of the Lannisters once they discovered their alliance. What if he was betrayed, what if she was captured and used as leverage. Too many thoughts kept his mind heavy and sleep now seemed impossible. But the one that weighed most heavily on him was, what if he returned from war victorious, and she would not have him?

A hand on his wrist rescued him from his thoughts then, and he saw Selene's fingers resting gently against his flesh, her eyes open but weary. He didn't speak, but she seemed to know something was wrong because she sat up, pushing her hair behind her ears as she stared back at him.

"It is not yet light," she told him with something in her voice that made his brow furrow, a strange yearning that he was not sure he had heard before. "You are not leaving yet are you?"

"No," he assured her. "The hour is still early, yet. Though I do not think I will find any rest now," he admitted and she nodded but her eyes fell from his and he reached out, his hand on her shoulder. "I know you don't want to leave," he whispered. "But thank you for going to Winterfell. My mind will be much more at ease knowing you are there. You need not be afraid."

"I am not afraid," she countered quickly. "I just-" she began but sighed before she could finish and he noticed then that the look in her eyes was not fear. "You're leaving, so soon, and there is still so much between us that is strange and uncertain," she told him when their eyes finally locked.

Her heart _had_ warmed, he thought. Men whispered "ice queen" behind her back and yet the woman before him had slowly begun to thaw.

He let his hand move up over her shoulder and slipped his hand behind her neck. She did not flinch at the contact and it pleased him that instead of a shudder he saw gooseflesh appear on her skin in the moonlight. Her eyes closed as he moved in slowly and he stopped, mere inches from her face and tried to memorize her features. Her pink lips, the small freckle near the corner of her mouth.

"Selene," he whispered then but she did not respond other than the small gasp at his closeness when she felt his breath against her face. "Please open your eyes," he requested, letting his thumb trace her jawline. Her eyes opened then and in the firelight and the moonbeams piercing through the dark room, he could see the blue in her eyes alight with the same things that burned somewhere deep within him. "Is it your wish that I return then, so that you may know me better?"

Her breath staggered and Robb too felt his erratic heart dancing wildly in his chest. Was it so wrong to want this? To have someone waiting for him, to have someone he could write home to with good news and bad. He wanted to have hope. He wanted to love her. If he could just have hope, that she wanted his safe return. That she wanted to know him, and to maybe one day - when the war was a footnote in Shireen's history books as she had written - love him. Perhaps then he could make it through without losing himself in the process.

"Yes," she whispered again like a gasp for air and Robb closed the space between them, his lips crashing into hers and she met him with equal fervor.

His fingers tangled in her hair and he felt hers cautiously reach up and rest on his bare chest. Their lips moved and there was nothing slow or gentle in that moment as he held her close to him. He heard a small sound escape her when his lips moved over her throat. His hands roamed freely and as the moments passed and he was engulfed in the scent of her skin and her hair, slowly he felt her fingers move over his chest and over his shoulders.

The feeling of her exploring hands only drove him further, wanting to know all of her and what would make her cry out in pleasure. He sought out her lips once more, feeling her turn - cautiously at first - and place her legs on either side of his hips. That act alone caused his stomach to leap in anticipation as they were soon both tangled in her nightgown as one side of it slid off her shoulder and down her arm. The exposure of more skin, the edge of her breast, illuminated in the dim light that surrounded them.

Selene stared down at him, her eyes burning in question and Robb could feel their mutual desire to hold onto this moment. They both knew what this was, and as she pulled at his breeches, he pushed down the other side of her nightgown so that it fell down at her waist. She paused her movements only briefly as his eyes remained on hers until she nodded once and he took in all of her bare flesh.

He was surprised when she initiated what happened next. She rose slightly, coming down around him until their foreheads touched. She closed her eyes and Robb could not take his eyes off of her then as she sighed against his mouth, her breath quickening as she began her search for a release he longed to give her.

As they moved together, their breaths quick and their hearts pounding, her expression changed from apprehension to something he had only briefly witnessed one other time. It was pleasure written in the corners of her mouth and the sound of her sighs. For the first time he did not wish for that moment to end, but instead hoped to prolong it for eternity as they were one. It was an intimacy he had never shared and even precious moments together had never had this effect on him as he held her there in his arms.

And then there was a moment that she seemed to lose her breath and she cried out into his shoulder, whispering something he couldn't decipher before he too found release, gripping her tightly to him and he could hold back no longer.

Robb couldn't help but think of her reading that book of hers and how she must have read something about this amongst one of her pages. She would have been blushing furiously as she did so. The thought made him smile as placed his face against her chest and they sat there, neither one moving. She wrapped her hands around his head then, as if holding him there with her fingertips tangled in his auburn curls.

He felt as though he might have drifted off, the feeling of her warmth against his lulling him into a much needed sleep when he heard a whisper. He wasn't sure if he'd dreamt it, but the words stuck with him and he would remember them for days to come.

"Come back to me," she had said. And it was a request he intended to fulfill.


	11. Chapter Ten

**| Chapter Ten |**

* * *

**TWO MONTHS LATER**

SELENE

She _had_ been afraid, she decided, upon reaching Winterfell. They were Robb's words and when he'd said them the night before he left for the Westerlands, she had defiantly contested that she had nothing to fear. She had been assuredly wrong, or so she realized upon riding up towards the keep with it's steadfast Stark grey stone surrounding it.

To say the transition was tense, would have been understating things greatly. Selene had spent two weeks on the road with Catelyn whose conversation was sparse and none too friendly. It was only the sight of her children that seemed to brighten to woman's dark demeanor and for that alone Selene was thankful to finally be at Winterfell.

But as Selene tried desperately to fall into an easy rhythm as Winterfell's mistress, she found herself at odds with it's previous one. The estate was in poor shape, most of it's useful staff had been recruited for Robb's war and for that she was somewhat understanding. But to keep Winterfell from falling into ruins, she sought out all the help she could find from the surrounding villages, an act that defied Catelyn's claim.

Catelyn only wanted their peasants in the fields, whilst Selene found better use for them inside the castle's walls. She needed women who could cook and mend, clean and manage day to day duties in a timely manner. She put the men to work on rebuilding Winterfell's former tallest tower, a once beautiful addition to the castle that was no reduced to ruins she'd been told. It was a waste of their resources and labor, she'd been informed by numerous staff members echoing Catelyn's words and Selene assured them that there was no better time than now to restore their King's home to it's former glory.

She spent a month in and out of arguments, discovering which of her servants was more loyal to Lady Catelyn rather than the queen herself. It was disappointing to find out that more than half of the staff only took orders from the king's mother assuring their Queen that she "ought not bother herself with such matters."

Her only solace was that despite their mother's attempts, Bran and Rickon seemed to at the very least tolerate her presence. Bran asked her the most questions about the war whilst Rickon mostly followed her in what he thought was a discreet manner. Selene pretended not to notice how often she spotted him peeking out from behind a pillar or from behind a book that was oddly much too advanced for his reading capabilities.

But it was Catelyn who remained unapproachable and bitter about Selene's very presence in the North. Oftentimes Selene would feel as though she made progress with the staff only to find that later that same day all of said progress had been undone upon the request of the lady whom they had come to love and respect.

That was Selene's problem. Only a handful of her staff respected her, not including the ones who she had brought to Winterfell from Dragonstone. These were men and women she had known most of her life. However those that were part of the Winterfell household were used to serving their Lady Stark. Not the Baratheon intruder. Regardless, she was their queen and she meant to make that known.

The harvest had nearly ended when she reached Winterfell, and because of that she was happy that she had yet to see snow fall from the looming clouds that her a constant grey. There was a beauty to the North that Selene tried to comprehend. She had been given Robb's chambers for her own, the room that looked right out over the moors. When the fog would roll in, she would watch the sun rise over the land. And if she closed her eyes, the sound of the wind howling was enough to imagine that she was somewhere near the sea.

One morning, two months since leaving Seagard, she woke to the sound of Angus stretching by the fire. She sat up slowly, rubbing her face in her hands as she watched the dog stand alert as she woke and his tail wagged happily when she summoned him over. It was not yet light, but she could tell it was nearly morning by the stillness outside her window. The sun would rise and she would soon be back to work.

She had not received a letter from Robb in nearly two weeks and with each passing day she felt more and more anxious that the only news that would reach her next was bad. News of his death. She pushed those thoughts aside that morning, willing herself to believe that today was the day she would find a letter waiting for her from her husband.

"News of victory would be nice," she muttered as she stretched and Angus leapt up onto the bed by her side. She patted his head affectionately.

Her most recent news was from her father, news that provided her with cryptic information regarding his attack on King's Landing. As a child, Selene had been taught a form of writing that would allow her to communicate privileged information without fear of being intercepted. He used this manner of writing to confide in the movements of his fleet. She knew they would be in King's Landing soon, if they weren't already. It would be a night attack, but she didn't need a letter to know that. Night would be his best advantage and soon King's Landing would be under seige of the greatest Master of Ships the Kingdoms had ever seen.

Robb's last letter told her that a siege on Casterly Rock had already begun. Her ships had massacred Tywin's minimal defences and with Robb's army pressing harder into the West, there was no escape. Tywin's army would have to push West in order to try and defend its capital. It would be a greater danger for Robb, she realized. He would be on the front of it. But it would mean King's Landing was free for the taking.

She had written Robb a week earlier. She just updated him on the status of things at Winterfell and all things leading up to her largest responsibility, the Harvest Feast. Bran would co-host the event with her, and nobles from all across the North would attend to meet their new queen. These people were all strangers to her but Robb had reminded her it was her duty now and if Selene was good at one thing, it was doing her duty.

A knock on the door signalled that her ladies were ready to help her begin the day. She sighed, pulled herself out of bed and beckoned them into the room. Alys held her breakfast whilst Aida carried her gown. It had been especially made for that evening, a fine dress of silvery fabric that looked very Stark indeed. Selene would be receiving guests all day and therefore would look as respectable as any queen should. She was not just making a first impression for herself, but she was also making an impression for her king.

"Her Ladyship, the King's Mother is already hard at work this morning," Alys told her and Selene wanted to roll her eyes at the news.

"I swear no matter how early I wake up the woman has already been awake for hours," Selene groaned, sitting down at the table nearest the fire and she started eating while Ysmay combed out her long dark hair.

"I have heard that the servants are starting to question her distaste for you, Your Grace," Alys told her and Selene scoffed. Alys had always been a gossip, the kind that could slip in and out of a room without drawing attention unless that was her aim. Selene had set her loose throughout the castle to find out how she could gain more loyalties amongst the staff and every day she would report back as to where she was in their good graces. "The cook is by far the most impressed. She is very fond of your management of the food supply and is much happier now that less food is going to waste unnecessarily."

"She all but shooed me out of her kitchen last week. Me! I'm the bloody Queen and the woman shooed me out of her kitchen."

"Don't be so down My Lady," Aida encouraged. "Tonight you will captivate them all."

"I can only hope I don't make a fool of myself. I'd be much more settled if I wasn't so worried about news from the war. I feel as though I'll go mad if I don't hear back soon," Selene admitted.

Over the last two months, Selene had been so isolated that she could only find solace in her lady's maids. The three of them were her only confidants, and without them there would be very few conversations people were willing to have that weren't a quick "Yes, Your Grace" or "Right away, Your Grace" and it was enough to make her mad with frustration.

"Has there been any word of my father's ship?" Ysmay asked and Selene looked up at the girl who looked at her with hope in her eyes.

"Not yet," she admitted. "But he is tried in combat, Ysmay. I know if he has not written it is because he has reason. He will reach the Rock and they will continue the siege and before you know it he will return to us."

Selene didn't like to lie, not to Ysmay who was so innocent and young. The girl was only sixteen but she was Oswyn's eldest daughter. Selene had received word from Julien that only half of the fleet she'd sent under Oswyn's command had arrived at the rendezvous point near Feastfires on the western coast. But Oswyn's ship was not amongst them. She was worried, but she would not show it. If something had happened, she would have known. She kept trying to believe those words. Even if they held little effect in calming her nerves.

"The princes have been asking after you as well," Aida tried to interrupt, changing the subject for which Selene was grateful. "Young Brandon told me to relay the message that he would like play with Angus on the grounds."

"He won't be doing much playing today, I'm afraid," Selene said regretfully. "He and I will be spending most of our time in the Throne room receiving our guests. But when I see him I will tell him that he can play with Angus tomorrow during the festival."

"How these Northerners can have a festival in the midst of war is beyond me," Alys muttered and Selene shot her a look that silenced her.

"We are Northerners now," she reminded them. "Our responsibility is to ensure the safety and contentness of our people. And that means honoring tradition so long as it does not impede on Robb's war."

"Oh look," Aida announced by the window as she prepared Selene's bath. "It looks like there is a rider at the gates."

Selene's ears perked and she stood from the table and joined Aida at the window. Alys and Ysmay were quick to follow. They all crowded around the space, looking out into the darkness and none were able to make out any sort of banner or sigil that would identify the man on the horse. Selene swung open the window when she saw Gyff standing below, taking something from the rider.

"Gyff!" she shouted and the man looked up towards the window. "Who was that man?" she questioned.

"It was a messenger, Your Grace. From the King," he shouted back up to her and her heart leapt.

"Bring it up immediately," she yelled in a hurried shout and pushed away from the window, running down the corridor.

Alys stopped her first, taking Selene's robe and handing it to her as she then allowed her to rush out the door. Gyff had barely made it into the keep when Selene met him, her breaths staggered as she reached for the parchment. He did not hesitate in handing it over and the moment Selene saw Robb's seal she ripped it open quickly, hopeful. She was sure she didn't breathe until she saw the familiar scrawl of her husband's hand.

"Is it good news, Your Grace?" Gyff asked curiously but she didn't speak as her eyes sped over the words.

_Dearest Selene,_

_I apologize for the tardiness of this letter. It has been difficult to get word out with all that is going on and I imagine you have been quite angry with me in the interim. The siege continues with forward progress that gives me hope that the Rock's defenses are nearing their end. We have cut off all incoming and outgoing communication as well as supplies._

_Your ships have provided a much needed service in the bay and you will be happy to know that there have yet to be any ships lost in battle. Julien has commanded the fleet well in your stead, though I have been informed that Oswyn and ten and twelve of your ships are still unaccounted for. I have several scouts doing what they can to find out their location but it has been difficult to stay in steady communication with so much going on here on the front._

_I do long to be home, but there is still much left to do here. I have heard word that my youngest sister, Arya, is not in fact at King's Landing, but was able to escape after my father's execution. I have dispatched a handful of my men to scour the land in search her and hope that she will find her way home unharmed._

_I was happy to receive your last letter, though I could still hear tenseness in your words. I hope things have settled for you and you need not be worried about the Harvest Feast. Winterfell has hosted the festival for centuries and while I know things are still tense between you and my mother, I know things will fall into place. The nobles will find you as enchanting as I have, and I know you will be much more at ease once they arrive._

_I am enclosing a gift I found in a library at Ashemark. It is my hope that it will put a smile on your face, which I am sure has been absent since our departure. It will warm my heart to think that while I am many miles away, I was still able to pull a smile from you._

_Give my love to my mother and my brothers. Give them hope, I think you are much better at that than I am. I will send word once there is more news to be had. And I will wait for your words until then._

_Yours,  
Robb_

She looked up at Gyff who was then holding out a small parcel in his hand with a patient expression and she nodded, taking the gift from him.

"Yes, it is good news from the King. The Rock is soon to succumb to the siege and I have reason to believe we could be finding victory as soon as his next letter," she relayed and Gyff nodded in understanding. Gyff, like Selene, did not smile much. "I should find Lady Stark and relay the news. Have you seen her this morning?" she asked and Gyff looked as though he was trying to remember.

"The last I saw her she was with the little prince, Brandon I believe. The one that follows you everywhere," he recalled and she nodded. Rickon.

"Thank you," she said. "Will you have someone fetch us when the first guest arrives?"

"Yes of course, Your Grace. The messenger did mention that they spotted Manderly banners breaking camp near Castle Cerwyn late last night. They will no doubt be here before midday."

"Very good then," she thanked and made her way back up the corridor to find Catelyn.

She stopped once, finding privacy in an empty spot in the stairwell and she looked back at the package in her hand. She opened it slowly, cautious as to what Robb Stark, King in the North had sent that he believed would make her smile. Upon pulling it away, she found herself holding a book, leather bound and in very fine shape. But it was the title she was meant to see and as soon as she read it her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. She covered it immediately, covering her mouth in embarrassment and she realized then that her cheeks were pulled tightly at the edges. She was, as he had wanted, smiling in the most ridiculous manner.

She tried to compose herself, putting the words _101 Positions for Braavosi Lovers _far out of her mind and she fanned her face. She was mortified, carrying a book about sex, through the halls but she covered it easily in it's packaging and slid it under her arm. She then walked up to the corridor where most of the family rooms were located and by the time she reached the third door on the left, she was able to hide her grin.

Lady Stark was, in fact, right where Gyff had mentioned seeing her last, in Bran's chambers helping him dress for the days events. Both looked startled when she was invited in and Bran's cheeks flared bright pink when he was caught half undressed and awaiting his new tunic. Catelyn, however, was glancing at the parchment in Selene's hand with a worried expression.

"It is good news," Selene assured her when the woman's lingering eyes looked panicked. "From Robb," she added and the woman looked much like Selene had felt upon reading the letter. Relieved. "Their plan has worked thus far and with any luck there will be victory before long."

"My son doesn't need luck," the woman sighed and Selene nodded.

"Of course he doesn't, My Lady," she replied, trying her utmost to keep her tone from sounding as hostile as she felt. "However, I do think we can both agree that a speedier victory would be welcomed news, can we not?"

The woman watched her for many moments before continuing to dress Bran who looked mortified that he needed his mother to dress him. Bran did smile, however, hearing good news about his brother was always good cause for the boys to be cheerful. Summer, the direwolf, was sitting at attention on Bran's bed with only a mild interest in Selene's presence. The large wolf had once been very wary of Selene upon her arrival, especially once introduced to Angus who already seemed to be missing Grey Wind for some reason Selene did not know. As far as she knew, the two animals only tolerated each other out of obligation to their masters. But every night since her departure from Seagard she caught Angus sniffing around, barking out into the darkness and awaiting his former chambermate.

Shaggydog on the other hand, couldn't have been more excited to see Selene as he bounded through the door with his young master by his side. Rickon beamed, though he tried to hide it as he approached her slowly and toyed absently with the fabric of her robe. She found the boy's curiosity endearing in a way that reminded her of Shireen at his age. And while she had never been very good at dealing with children other than her own sister, she did find some amusement in Rickon's present. Though she was sure she could never admit it to anyone.

"I've also been informed that Lord Manderly and his host will likely be our first arrivals," Selene informed and Catelyn nodded. "Brandon, you and I will greet them in the throne room if that is alright with you?" she asked, trying to give the child some sense of power.

"Yes," answered Bran, apprehensively at first. "Yes I suppose that will be alright."

"Very well," Selene attempted cheerfully, letting the corners of her mouth rise slightly though it wasn't much of a smile and she could tell by both his and Catelyn's expression. So instead of prolonging the awkwardness that hung between them, she turned and made for the door.

"Rickon," Catelyn scolded in her motherly voice. "Let go of the Queen and please go get dressed."

Selene stopped, looked back down at her side where Rickon tried to follow her, still attached to her robe, and he paused, conflicted as he glanced at his mother and then back up at her with a question in his Tully blue eyes. It was a little victory, she thought to herself, having one of Catelyn's own children defy her in a very small manner. And so she nodded slightly and patted the boy on the head once and he let go and did as he was told.

* * *

Guest continued to arrive into the evening and every time Selene thought she could take a break and rest, a new guest would be announced. She and Bran sat side by side as each noble paid tribute. Most of Robb's bannermen and greater nobility were off fighting the war, but that did not mean that she could not play host to those who guarded what was left of the North. And while she felt though they all looked at her with suspicion in their eyes, she remained steadfast as she had always been taught.

She may not have been a Stark, but she was a Baratheon. And she would give them a Baratheon.

When the feast was long over and the dancing commenced, she heard Bran sigh from her left. He was holding his head up with one hand, his elbow propped up on the dining table where they sat. Selene sipped out of her wine goblet, careful to keep a steady pace. Rickon sat next to his mother though she could see him sneak bits of pheasant underneath the table from time to time when he thought no one was looking. Every few moments she could see Shaggydog's tail sticking out from under the table linens and she suddenly knew where his scraps were going.

She was offered a dance by three lords, two of whom were drunk and the third was merely out of stiff courtesy. She declined all invitations until finally it was Lord Wyman Manderly himself who insisted she dance for her people and with all the prying eyes watching her eagerly, she felt she had no other option but to agree.

To say the man was large, would have been an understatement. He stood a foot taller than herself and was almost entirely round. He had a hearty laugh and while she had never been very fond of dancing, she found him to be pleasant enough company. His breath was thick with wine, but his words did not slur as he then introduced his son Wylis followed by his cousin Marlon.

By the time she was allowed to return to her seat, she was informed by Gyff that Catelyn had taken Bran and Rickon to bed. His handler, the great brute called Hodor, was meanwhile dancing alone in a peculiar manner that no one seemed to notice. And now she was left to face the masses on her own.

She was ready to sit when Maester Luwin found her. Of all of Winterfell's inhabitants, the Maester was the kindest to her and for that she was grateful. He stood before her in his Maester's robes, holding a few bits of parchment. He was accompanied by Winterfell's Master-at-Arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel and neither looked overly-indulged in the same frivolity as all of their guests.

"Your Grace, I apologize for the intrusion of your festivities. But it has come to my attention that several of the lords wish to call a meeting tonight rather than wait until tomorrow," Luwin explained and furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Who has called the meeting?"

"They are waiting for you in the study, Your Grace," Ser Rodrik informed her and motioned towards the door. There she saw a few men waiting, Lord Manderly included, and she excused herself from the feast in order to follow them.

There was a large room down the corridor, a chamber that she had been told had once belonged to Lord Eddard. He held the majority of his meetings in this room, as would Robb if - no, when - he returned. Twelve men, two women and two adolescents she recognized from the greeting, were waiting for her around the table. They all stood as she entered the room and did not sit until she was seated at the table's head.

"I have been told this meeting was called but I have not been told for what purpose," she spoke loudly, clearly, and in a manner that caused each person to sit up straighter than they had before.

"My Queen," Lord Wyman spoke first. "It was I who called this meeting of all the highest born left here in the North to discuss our King's campaign in the West. We have been informed of his successes and wish to offer our services, in whatever manner would please him and our Queen."

They were all watching her expectantly, as if waiting for her to give instructions of how they should proceed in aid of their king. But the fact of the matter was, Selene knew very little of Robb's needs. He had not mentioned them in his letter and she suddenly wished he had. For all she knew war was much harder than he had let on.

This lot of men before her couldn't' fight, not all of them at least. And she could hardly send the ones that could when they were the very defence she needed in the North against any counter attack that would lead up the Neck. But then she thought of Oswyn, his ship and a near quarter of her fleet that were still nowhere to be found. She looked to the son of the late Medger Cerwyn. Cley was his name and he had fine young features and a strong chin.

"Lord Cley," she spoke. "Before you left for Winterfell, did you receive word of Lady Dustin?"

"Yes, Your Grace," he answered quickly, seeming surprised that she had addressed him of all people. "She sent her regrets as she was feeling ill and was unable to make the journey, but sent a few lances in her stead."

Maester Luwin and Selene shared a skeptical glance. It was well known that Barbrey Dustin still held a grudge with the Starks after Eddard failed to bring home her husband's bones after Robert's Rebellion. She had also heard that her minimal support sent to Robb's aid was not well received but was of course expected. No one was surprised that she did not attend the harvest feast in person. In fact, Selene was glad for it. But now she needed the woman.

"I had two of my ships stationed in Blazewater Bay to keep guard of our shores. I have not heard from them, nor have I heard from the others, including one of my commanders. It is unlikely that they should reach Casterly Rock as planned. If I were to send word to Lady Dustin, would she abide my command to send men out to the Blazewater in search of my two guarder ships?"

"While we all know of Barbrey's disdain, I don't think she'd be daft enough to ignore and order from her Queen," Wyman answered for Cley and there was a hearty chuckle in the room at his response.

"I received word from the King, just this morning," she informed them then. "He reports that his campaign is still successful and he anticipates that the Rock will not hold much longer."

"Here here!" a few of the men shouted, raising their glasses cheerfully. The other's followed suit.

"He still holds the Kingslayer captive, and so long as he does, Tywin is nearing the end of his defenses. He will have no choice but to surrender to the King's demands," she continued.

"Any word from the Baratheon front?" asked the deep voice of Hother Umber.

"None yet," she admitted. "But I expect to hear any day now as my father has the capital outnumbered and outflanked. The Bastard Usurper will kneel and the succession will be restored."

There was discomfort hanging in the air, a tension that could not be broken and she knew the reason was that the Baratheon name still caused uncertainty. Most knew of Renly Baratheon's death and they looked at her with the same suspicion that they used when speaking of her father. Stannis was the rightful heir, to that they would agree. But the King in the North was their king now, and should anyone try and remove him from power, there would be a revolt.

The conversation went on, even as the feast's festivities were echoing through the hallways. She did not leave the discussion until the lords were appeased and she felt confident in the answers she had given. It had gone on late into the night, so late in fact that it did not take her but a few moments before she fell into a deep sleep upon returning to her chambers.

Aida stayed behind to help her out of her gown and Selene was only vaguely aware of when she heard the door close upon the girl's departure. Angus was snuggled up right atop her feet and his heavy weight kept her feet warm all throughout the night. If she listened, she could still hear the dull hum of the excitement that had spilled outside into the courtyards and the camps that laughed and sang into the night. Silence only came long after she had succumbed to sleep, and the fires burned and then dulled as the night wore on.

She dreamt then, dreamt that she was at sea. The rocking of the ship was pleasantly familiar and the sound of the ship cutting through the waves was clear. She remembered resting her hands atop the railing of the bow, watching as land approached. But suddenly it began to approach too fast and she spun around to shout to Julien to slow the boat. But when she turned there was no one, no one at the helm, no one on the deck.

She ran to the wheel, hoping to turn about before they ran aground. But the wheel was stuck, jammed in some manner that made her tugging and pushing insufficient. Her shouts went unanswered, her search for the crew turned up nothing but an empty ship. And she panicked, rushing towards the sails in order to adjust the sails but before she could reach them she felt herself falling. Falling from the ship at an alarming pace and she screamed as she felt towards the sharp rocks below, lining the shore where they sailed.

She awoke with start, feeling herself gasping for air as she sat straight up, Angus standing over her, alarmed. She reached out around her, feeling the softness of the feather bed underneath her but she still could not catch her breath. It was a dream, she assured herself. Just a dream, she repeated again and again as Angus licked her hand, whimpering as she tried to steady her breaths.

She was overwhelmed then, a feeling deep within the pit of her that took over and she crawled to the corner of the bed, leaping out and running towards the chamber pot where she felt a sickness rise out of her violently. She kneeled for what felt like an eternity, the simultaneous pain and temporary relief washing over her in waves. And then finally it stopped and she sat back against the wall in order to compose herself.

It was then she saw Alys, standing just near the door with her eyes watching her in concern and Selene sighed.

"I'm alright," she tried to say but her throat burned. "I think I'm alright," she clarified. "I just need water or wine, whichever is left there on the table," she instructed.

Alys wasted no time in grabbing the pitcher and pouring the contents into the goblet and handing it to Selene. She drank it too fast, wishing it had been wine rather than water to help wash the horrific taste from her mouth. Alys helped her stand and as her legs wobbled, led her to the bed.

"Are you sure you're alright, My Lady? You're as hot as coals," she whispered frantically but Selene waved her off.

"I had a dream, it startled me is all," she attempted to explain as she took the goblet Alys filled once more. "It's barely light," she said then. "Has someone summoned me?"

"Well, yes My Lady. I was awoken from my sleep by shouts at the gate. A young man shouting up at the guards." Alys' words made Selene's brow furrow as she wondered where her maid had slept that had allowed her such close access to the front gate.

"Shouting?" she questioned, placing her hand over her stomach when she thought the feeling was rising once more.

"That he needed to see his Queen," Alys answered and Selene looked up. "That-" she paused looking towards the door. "That it was a matter of the ship called _The Griffin's Mercy_, he said."

"Oswyn," she whispered, eyes wide as she stood.

She swayed only slightly but Alys kept her balanced as she rushed around the room, pulling on a robe over her shift. She had Alys plait her hair as Selene pulled on her shoes and they both rushed out of the room. They did not stop to find Aida or Ysmay even though Alys had suggested it. Selene didn't want whatever news they heard to upset Ysmay. She was a sensitive girl, much unlike Alys who Selene was beginning to realize was neither shy nor timid.

There were a few guards in the throne room where Lady Stark and Bran were also waiting, but they both looked surprised at her arrival as they spun around to see her entering the room. Maester Luwin stood off towards Lady Catelyn with Rodrik to her left. The Maester tried to get her attention, holding a bit of parchment in his hands but it was then that the young man was brought through the doors by Gyff and one of the Winterfell guards.

She recognized the boy immediately.

"Petyr," she whispered, horrified at his appearance. His face was covered in blood, a large cut from the corner of his mouth to his jaw.

"You know this boy, Your Grace?" Rodrik questioned and she nodded, stepping forward as she ripped part of her robe to hold it against the wound.

"Petyr is Oswyn's squire," she replied, kneeling down to where Petyr had fallen to his knees on the stone ground before her. "Petyr, tell me what happened?"

"Your Grace there is urgent news I must-" the Maester tried to interrupt but she held her hand up to silence him.

"Petyr tell me what happened to the ships? Why has Oswyn not sent word?" she asked him, keeping her voice as soft as she could whilst holding the cloth to his face.

"Three days into our journey, My Queen, we received a raven from the Northern captains that were sent to the Blazewater. A cry for help. The captain took charge of the fleet and decided to talk half of our ships North, whilst the other half sailed on course to meet Julien."

"What cry for help?" she asked quickly.

"We didn't receive much detail, but as we neared Flint's Finger we saw only Ironborn ships. We thought it strange when we encountered so few in the Bay on our way out from port, but we thought perhaps it was because they were stationed closer inland. But we were wrong."

"Tell me," she insisted then, her voice stern as she saw his eyes held more than he was saying.

"The Ironborn are ravaging the coast, My Queen," he answered in a ghostly whisper. "They took the captain, I barely escaped with a few others. They ran us down to Moat Cailin but I was able to obtain a horse from nearby farm. I rode as hard as I could."

Selene stood then, handing the bloodied cloth to the boy. She looked down at him, her eyes searching as her mind raced. She looked to Gyff, whose expression matched her own. Both knew what this meant, what it could mean if the Ironborn wanted to take the North and how little she had to stop them.

"How many?" she asked. Petyr shook his head.

"Too many to count, My Queen. There were ships farther North, sailing up the coastline and then I saw the _Iron Victory_ followed by what looked like the bulk of the Iron Fleet."

"Victarion," she realized, closing her eyes as she heard what she had feared. She then looked to Gyff. "Balon Greyjoy sends his brother to cut off the North's hold on the Neck," she spat.

"If they take Moat Cailin-," he contemplated.

"There is no speculation, Gyff," she told him. "They _will_ take Moat Cailin. And whatever they can of the Northern coasts."

She glanced towards Catelyn who was wide-eyed and Bran who looked anxious. She had forgotten he was there, forgotten to censor her words as not to scare the child but she had already failed. The Maester still clung to his parchment, wringing it in his hands as he took in the news none of them wanted to hear. She then turned back to Gyff.

"Wake the nobles. We must take immediate action to hold off an Ironborn invasion in the west. We cannot allow them to come any further inland."

"With what force?" Gyff replied roughly and she spun around, feeling the heat rising in her.

"Do as I have asked," she commanded and he did not try to speak again. He turned and ran towards the guest wing and Selene walked over towards the Maester. "I need to write the King. And my father," she added. "They won't make it in time to stop Victarion's invasion. But if he can send a few companies, Freys would get here fastest, then we can try to slow it."

"Your Grace, I must insist that you read this letter, it just came-" he tried to reply but she was shaking her head.

"Not now, Maester," she replied impatiently. "I cannot be bothered with other matters, not until I've settled a plan of action."

"I do understand, Your Grace, and I apologize for the impertinence but I believe it is of just as much importance." The old man stared at her. They were nearly the same height and his chestnut eyes were no longer polite or gentle as they had always been in the past. Now they were insistent.

"Who has sent it?" she asked him, looking down at it as he held it out.

"Joffrey Barath-"

"Don't," she hissed. "Don't call him that."

"It is from King's Landing, My Queen," he corrected.

She reached out slowly, glancing down at the Maester's wrinkled hands and the now wrinkled parchment and she saw the familiar writing of Grand Maester Pycelle. She frowned, feeling her heartbeat quicken as she took hold of it, finding the seal of Joffrey-called-Baratheon. She ripped through the wax in one swift motion, tearing open the letter that was meant for her eyes and she glanced over words that caused her heart to fall deep into her chest.

Her hands began to shake as she placed them over her throat, trying to hold in the gasp, the ache that rose inside of her like a knife that had been plunged through her flesh. The word went on but the message was all the same.

They called it the Battle of the Blackwater.

And Stannis Baratheon was dead.

* * *

****

**A/N: I'll just leave that right there. Enjoy *evil smirk*.**


	12. Chapter Eleven

****| Chapter Eleven |****

* * *

SELENE

All at once she felt as if everything she had built up had shattered.

There, in the throne room, before a handful of people she stood attempting to conceal the ripping she felt inside of her. Her hands shook. She tried to mask it as she paced the room, holding the edge of the fireplace to keep her balance as she stared into the flames before her.

She felt moments away from breaking.

Had she truly been left to face this alone?

She couldn't speak, though once she had read the letter, the expression on her face was enough to divulge its contents. But she still could not wrap her head around the words. She didn't want to believe them, how could she? They were the words of a bastard child, the words of his advisers meant to strike fear into her mind. Or at least it was the logical reasoning behind them. Regardless of their intent, however, the outcome of her father's attack on King's Landing was at the very least apparent.

He had failed to take the capitol. And his fate was still yet unknown.

Of course Joffrey wanted to her to believe he was dead. It meant that he had finally become aware of her position. Word had finally reached his door that Selene Baratheon was Queen in the North and the Stark/Baratheon alliance had been forged behind the back of the boy king. How he'd found out, was still a mystery. But most importantly, now that her father had failed in his attempt at regaining his throne, Selene was left with the responsibility she had always feared.

And for it, Joffrey would want her head.

But she didn't fear for _her_ life. She hadn't wasted one moment thinking such selfish thoughts upon the news that her father had been massacred in the battle. All she could think of was Shireen. Was she safe? Would Joffrey have her hunted down and murdered to secure his throne? It was a sickening thought and Selene's hands began shaking more when she pictured her sister's warm eyes. _Be brave,_ her sister would whisper. But as hard as Selene tried, she could not remember the sound of her sister's voice. She closed her eyes, straining to remember her uninhibited laugh.

"Your Grace?" It was the Maester who spoke first, interrupting the silence and Selene's head snapped around, startled.

She tried to speak, tried to say something - anything - that would be of use. But no wisdom came to mind. No plan of action was at the ready and she felt suddenly too weak to stand. Alys was nearest and when she touched Selene's arm there was a sinking feeling that plummeted so hard into Selene's stomach that she felt as though she might fall to her knees. With each

"It seems as though our successes in the Westerlands were not mirrored at King's Landing," she whispered, but it was a strangled sound trying desperately to escape past the lump in the throat. "Joffrey writes that they sunk my father's fleet to the bottom of the Blackwater," she finally said and the words seemed even more impossible when said out loud. "They say that they watched my father's ship sink in flames of wildfyre."

"But surely there was some success on land?" Ser Rodrik questioned and she shook her head.

"The Starks and Baratheons were not the only ones with a secret alliance," she whispered. "Tywin fled the battle with the King and pressed east, to the capitol, with Mace Tyrell's army in his pocket. He arrive just in time to strike down all Baratheon efforts."

She shouldn't have been so surprised but she was. She couldn't help but hope that Mace Tyrell would have kept his pudgy nose out of it all. But instead he had gone and sold his daughter away to the Lannisters, and in turn they would have all the power they desired. It was a dangerous new enemy, she realized. Macy Tyrell had finally gotten his revenge on Stannis for Robert's Rebellion. But whilst she felt the sickening twist of grief in her veins, she knew that there was still hope.

Robb would take the Rock. And she would defend the North.

She had to keep the North.

Gyff stood not far from the door then, watching her with several men piling in behind him. The Lords had been roused to help her create a plan of action and now she had to try and keep her composure. Some were still drunk, she realized, not yet informed of a devastating failure in their endeavors. But they would not care so much as they would have if it had been Robb's defeat. These men did not bow to House Baratheon. And from the looks in their eyes it was clear they did not wish to bend a knee to her either.

"Selene," she heard someone whisper, touching her arm and she whipped around at the feeling of the foreign touch and she was met with familiar blue. Tully blue.

Catelyn.

"What," she whispered quickly, much too quickly she realized but she was too busy trying to organize her thoughts, trying to remove images of Shireen from her mind. "What?" she repeated again, feeling all of her frustration emerging at the woman before her.

"You need a moment," Catelyn tried to insist, taking Selene's arm in her gentle hand but Selene jerked it from the woman's grasp. "Selene, please do not make this harder on yourself. Come and you can be alone, take a moment to grieve."

"And what good will my grieving bring?" she wanted to shout but it came out as a near strangled gasp. "If my father is truly dead, my tears will be of no use to him now. The Ironborn are pillaging the coasts, raping Northern women. Soon they will be at our gates." She could feel the rage burning up within her as her whisper grew just slightly. "My sister will be taken soon, she and my mother slaughtered as soon as Joffrey's whitecoats reach the stronghold in Dragonstone. So you will forgive me if I would rather not waste a _moment_ in shedding tears when there are things to be done."

"I know you are only fearing for your sister's life right now but take solace in knowing that it would serve them better to keep her hostage," Catelyn argued and Selene could feel her heart breaking, piece by piece.

"It didn't serve my uncle well when he took the capitol," she reminded the woman. "All Targaryens struck down on sight. That was his mandate. If you think Joffrey is more merciful than Robert, you are sorely mistaken. He wants any contender to his throne dead. Without competition, who is there to contest his legitimacy?"

"But surely they would want to keep her to draw you to them?" Catelyn attempted.

"He knows better than to think I'd be so foolish. There would be no sparing her if I offered myself in exchange. There would be no chance at rescue. If Joffrey gets his hands on my sister, she will be dead."

She did not wish to argue any further when she saw the realization in Catelyn's eyes. It was the same realization that had come upon Selene at the news of her father's supposed death. If he was dead, it was matter of days until Shireen would be put to death. No matter how desperately she wanted to go to her, Shireen's body would be rotting in the sea before Selene could reach her. And then she'd likely end up dead herself.

Better off, she thought briefly but pushed the thought from her mind when she heard the men begin to shout. Gyff had relayed the reports. Half of them were still drunk from the evenings festivities but still the stood by, awaiting her reaction. She too awaited her own reaction. Swallowing the lump in her throat, trying to suppress it deep down where it belonged - out of sight. Finally she looked to Maester Luwin.

"Fetch your two fasted ravens, Maester."

* * *

ROBB

News of the Battle of the Blackwater had reached him two days prior to Selene's letter. When the raven came from Winterfell he had feared it's contents. It was not written in his wife's hand he realized and he anticipated the Maester's words to explain of Selene's immediate journey to Dragonstone after her sister.

But the letter's contents were, on the contrary, not what he was expecting.

They were Selene's words in the Maester's hand. She spent next to no time discussing what took place at the Blackwater. She instead discussed something which disturbed Robb much more. News of the Ironborn ravaging the shores of the North meant that Theon, the man he trusted as brother, had either betrayed him, or failed to warn him in time that Robb's proposal was denied. Balon Greyjoy had decided to take the North and Robb was so far from home he could do nothing to protect it.

He'd been angry, so angry that he hadn't finished reading the letter when he read the news of the invasion. He had endeavored to send his mother and wife so far from the fighting that he had never anticipated that the North had been left so vulnerable. He had nothing to barter with, nothing anymore that Balon would want. The Kraken had his heir back and now planned to take advantage of Robb's absence. Robb thought of Selene and her previous letter. She'd been concerned over matters that seemed bigger to her at the time. Now she was faced with this on top of the news of her father's failure.

He read on, learning how she had taken action and Robb's heart raced over every word. What few eligible soldiers she had left had come to pay homage at the Harvest Feast. She would have their council to decide on further action. But no matter their decision, the outcome would be the same. They were simply too outnumbered. Robb and Stannis had taken the bulk of the Stark-Baratheon soldiers and left behind very little to keep the North protected against an attack as large as the Iron Fleet.

Victarion Greyjoy was ruthless in battle but he was the only of his brothers that wasn't mad. He could be reasoned with, Robb thought and Selene must have known this it well because she and the men had decided that the focus of their attention should be on holding Moat Cailin. He feared what it would mean for her. She was not a soldier, she could not fight on the field or with a sword. But perhaps, he realized, she would think she could take them by sea.

It was an idiotic plan, he wanted to tell her. He _would_ tell her. She had too few ships in the North and not enough men to man them. She couldn't put herself up against the Ironborn at sea without her fleet. Her best hope was to hold Winterfell until he could dispatch enough ships to come to her aid.

It would mean siege, he thought. Here he was, nearly victorious in his own siege of Tywin's fortress and yet his own home might be under the same duress. He wanted to trust that she could hold it. He had very little choice in the matter otherwise. Both Selene and Robb faced the same dilema now. Neither could come to the aid of their loved ones. By the time either arrived it would be too late.

"Olyvar," he said finally when reaching the bottom of the letter and where she normally would give him some glimmer of hope, some morsel of confidence, she had merely signed her name. "How many members of the council are back from the fighting?"

"Just Lord Bolton, Your Grace," Olyvar informed and Robb glanced down at the letter once more.

"Call him here at once," Robb instructed. "It is a matter of great urgency. Dispatch a squire into the field and have him inform Lords Karstark and Umber of the Ironborn invasion. Have them return immediately."

"With the vanguard, Sire?"

"No, I cannot abandon the cause, just yet. We keep fighting until the Rock is ours. Once it falls we turn our force North and take back our land. In the mean time we will insist your father send reinforcements to the Queen's aid."

Olyvar merely nodded his assent.

Robb could think of a hundred other things that needed doing. A hundred letters he could writing seeking aid for his family. The West was essential to holding his claim. If he lost the West, his campaign would prove a failure. The Lannisters would not rest until the Starks were eliminated from Westeros. The North would be ravaged by enemies he could not afford.

Something made him think of Jon then. So far North that he could see passed the wall. He envied him in that brief moment. Perhaps there were hardships but there would be no war. Would he ever see him again, he wondered. Would he ever see any of them again? Jon, Bran, Rickon, Arya, Sansa, his mother. Selene.

"Your Grace, your squire said you wished to see me?" a voice called from behind him and he turned to see Roose Bolton pulling the flap of the tent back as he entered. He stopped just before Robb, his milky-white eyes staring down at him expectantly.

"I've just received news from the Queen. The Ironborn have invaded the North," he told Roose who raised an eyebrow in what was the extent of his reaction. "Victarion Greyjoy has been spotted nearing Moat Cailin with the entirety of the Iron Fleet."

"We've nearly succeeded in taking the West. All the Western strongholds are under our power and it is a matter of days before you declare victory on Casterly Rock," Roose reminded him.

"How many men do you have left at the Dreadfort?" Robb requested and Roose glanced up in thought.

"Enough to send to Winterfell at your request," he offered and Robb could see something alight in the man's haunting eyes. "Let me send my bastard to keep guard. He will command what men I have left in the North and repel any Ironmen who come close enough to tempt them."

"Very well. I don't see that we have much choice. I don't know how many men escaped the Blackwater, if any," Robb added. "I'd trust Selene to keep the North under her control if she had more men under her command. I want to keep her from traveling to the sea."

"The coast should not be the focus of her worries. They won't travel far enough North because the Wolfswood will give Winterfell steady coverage. They'll invade to Torrhen's Square where Your Grace's bannermen left in the North will make their stand."

"They're experienced enough, to be sure, but she will no doubt send many of our men South to hold Moat Cailin," Robb told Roose who frowned at the idea.

"Mallister is in the Riverlands. We should sent word to both him and Walder Frey to dispatch heavy guard to Moat Cailin. Mallister will send what boats he does have left after the ironborn." Roose seemed almost too calm, indifferent to this new information. But his demeanor was almost always as such.

"Send word to your bastard," Robb agreed though he felt skeptical about the idea of Ramsay Snow anywhere near Winterfell. His mother wouldn't like it, but as of now there was little choice. "I'll write to Selene and have her stay her plan of action."

"There is another matter, Your Grace, which I wished to discuss," Roose said, stepping forward. "This fight is dwindling down. No matter Stannis Baratheon's demise at the Blackwater, we still have Twyin Lannister's heir. If we were to-" Robb didn't let the man finish.

"Jaimie Lannister is the only reason my sister is still alive. If I have any hopes of seeing her freed, then we keep the Kingslayer alive. Once Casterly Rock has yielded, the Lannisters will have no choice but to return my sister."

"Very well, Your Grace."

There were few members of the council left in the West. Robb had sent his most trusted and experienced bannermen into the thick of the fighting to conquer the Westerlands bit by bit. Until they succeeded - or died - in battle, he would not ask them to retreat North. Morale was high, even after news of Stannis' failure in the capitol. He knew if he told them about the Ironborn now that they'd be anxious to go home. Robb wasn't planning to lie, but he was in no hurry to inform them either. He would send whomever he could spare to the North until he himself was free to ride on Winterfell and bring his sword to Theon.

He sat down at his table, reaching for sheet of parchment and began writing Selene to stay her action on Moat Cailin. He glanced to the right of the parchment, just past his hand where a dagger sat neatly nearby. It was Selene's dagger, the dagger she had sent to their betrothal as a gift to him. He remembered taking it, riding back to war with it in his satchel, and thinking that it was much too Baratheon of a dagger for a man to wear in battle. But the longer he looked at it now, he found it reminded him very much of Selene. It was dangerously beautiful, with a cold exterior. Each time he glanced at it he found something he'd never discovered before. Fine embellishments that were both regal and gallant.

He'd asked her, once, where it'd come from and she very nearly smiled and told him the story of her grandfather, Steffon Baratheon. As a child she had stolen it from his bedchambers, a story her father had told her like most of her encounters with her grandparents for which she was too young to remember. Steffon, who had been exceedingly disappointed in his son's inability to produce an heir, had expressed his distaste for Selene, whom he often referred to as a nuisance. However, upon finding out it was Selene who had taken the dagger from his bedside, he confronted the child, only to be nearly impaled by his own granddaughter, who laughed heartily whilst pointing it at him. This amused the man so greatly that Stannis swore the man grinned and told Selene that the dagger was hers. A few months later Steffon and Cassana perished in Shipbreaker Bay, all the while in sight of their fortress at Storm's End.

Robb had immediately offered to give the dagger back to her after hearing the story that seemed more sentimental than anything he'd ever heard her say. But she insisted he keep it, that it was her gift to him. And he therefore, kept it with him at all times.

Robb's letter to Selene was not a long one. He wrote with few pleasantries, but listed his instructions clearly. When he neared the end, he could not help but ask after her, trying to give her what assurances he could of how they would avenge both of their fathers. She wouldn't want assurances, but he thought perhaps writing them helped him as well.

There was little good news to report, only the same promise that tomorrow might bring victory. He had conquered enough keeps in the West to hold it from any Lannister counter attack. But he knew if he didn't take the Rock soon, that he would not only have Lannisters out for him, but Tyrells as well.

And this time, the enemy wouldn't have any imminent threat to stop them.

* * *

SELENE

"I have written to Jon Snow," she said softly and the woman's reaction was just as harsh as she had anticipated.

Catelyn's head whipped around from her place by the fire where she was stroking Bran's hair. Rickon had taken up a place on the fur run nearest to Selene though understanding her discomfort, he did not try and rest his head on her lap as he had mistakenly done two nights prior. Instead he had inched towards her, again and again until his small feet were just barely grazing Selene's leg. He was peacefully sleeping with his direwolf curled up around him.

"I beg your pardon?" she hissed quickly and Selene looked up from the sleeping child up at the woman whose eyes were full of fire.

"I thought it right that he know that his home was under attack. If the Night's Watch could lend any aid-" explained Selene but Catelyn's voice interrupted her.

"That was not your decision to make," the woman declared. "Jon Snow has taken the Black and therefore has severed any ties he may have once had with this family. He his not my son and Winterfell is no longer his home."

Selene eyed the woman curiously. It was true, she had known Jon Snow was Ned's bastard son and recalled that Robb had divulged his mother's discomfort in the boy's presence among her own children. Selene could understand discomfort, forgive it even for a short time. But Ned had chosen to raise the boy, to give him a home and care for him as was his duty. She found no fault in that. Had her own father had a bastard, perhaps she'd never have had so much responsibility now sitting on her shoulders.

"You may be upset with my decision, My Lady Stark, but I needed to guarantee the safety of Winterfell. With most of the King's men still in the Westerlands I have very little hope of defending the North without men to fight for it. If Jon can convince the Night's Watch's Lord Commander of our dire need, then perhaps I may be able to hold the King's seat long enough for it's holder to return to sit upon it."

She had been quiet, her words soft enough as not to disturb the two sleeping children. But Summer the direwolf did raise his head slightly and watched Selene with careful eyes. Angus too lifted his head but then quickly settled it back upon her lap and let the fire lull him back to sleep.

Selene spoke again.

"I grow weary of your distaste for me," she added. "I think it is time that you recognize that I am not a child to be easily manipulated by your cross demeanor. That is to say, you do not scare me."

Catelyn didn't speak at first, taken aback by Selene's boldness and Selene felt slight triumph rush through her. For the first time Lady Stark looked as though she were put in her place and Selene could see by the woman's features that she was not used to it.

"They won't let him leave," the woman finally said, her voice somewhat defeated. "And if he were to leave at his own free will, then they would hunt him down as a deserter. Robb would be obligated by honor to execute his own brother for desertion. You believe he will thank you for that?"

"I don't ask that he desert his vows. But I ask that he appeal to the authority on the Wall for help. Now is when we see where their loyalties lie. I am the rightful heir to the Baratheon throne and if they do not kneel to me, then they are of little use aren't they? We can't have Lannister sworn swords at our gates."

"You will claim the throne then? Now that your father has failed?"

Selene answered in the only way she knew how. "I must," she whispered. "It is not simply a matter of birthright. If I do not claim the Iron Throne then I allow the people of Westeros to bow down to a bastard pretender born of incest."

"So will you leave?"

"I can't very well leave with the Ironborn descending upon us, can I? And I certainly have no army to take King's Landing. Not yet. For now I will hold the North. And when Robb returns, I will remind Westeros of who their Queen is."

"With Mace Tyrell in Tywin Lannister's pocket?"

"Mace Tyrell may have sold his daughter to the Lannisters but I still have contacts. It is just a matter of reaching out to the right ones." But none of that mattered right now, she thought. "I cannot raise an army of followers until I can prove that I am a Queen worth following. So for now I will attend to the North. And then I will worry about my throne."

Her biggest fear had always been having to rule. Having to take up a throne that should have belonged to legitimate cousins and would only ever be a distant possibility in the back of her mind. But instead she was faced with it head on and if she did not stake her claim then the Baratheon name would fade, the line would forever be called into question and the blood of the Stag would die with her. Her father was ambitious but not charismatic. She feared that perhaps she too might not have what was needed to charm the people into aiding her cause.

But perhaps, she thought, if she could succeed in keeping the North from ruin, she could show them that she was a Queen of worth.

"I should tell you," Selene said then. reaching her hand out towards where Rickon's head was delicately laid out on the furs. She could not help but touch his light auburn hair at the nape of his neck where it curled slightly and she thought for a moment that he looked very much like Robb must have as a child. "I have made arrangements for your safety, should our defences fail," she assured. "You and the boys will be protected, I will see to that."

"And your own safety?" Catelyn inquired though Selene's eyes were still focused on Rickon's curl wrapped gently around her finger.

"Let me worry for this family," answered Selene. "I promised Robb I would."

She stood then, easing Angus off of her and he stretched as he stood to follow. She left the room, closing the door gently behind her as she and Angus set off into the corridor. Her chambers weren't far, but she walked slowly, counting each step as she walked. She could feel the cold chill on the stone walls, the ache in her chest with each step.

Aida and Alys were in her rooms, readying a hot bath and both stopped when she entered. Neither spoke, only bowed their heads as Selene made her way to her own fire. She stood there until she heard Aida's gentle voice beside her, beckoning her to the tub. Alys removed Selene's gown whilst Aida prepared her shift for bed. Selene then stepped into the hot water, her breath catching slightly at the intensity of it.

She could have washed herself, she thought. In fact, she willed herself to do it but both Aida and Alys chided her when she moved. So she sat there, Aida's fingers running through her long hair, smoothing it with oils she'd received as a wedding gift from the wife of one of Robb's bannermen. She was relaxed by the smell, the warmth of the water and the gentle movements of Aida washing her hair.

"My Lady," Alys' voice interrupted and Selene opened her eyes slightly to see the woman pause her washcloth. "You still have not bled this moon cycle."

"Yes I know," Selene replied offhandedly. "It has never happened before. The Maester has been busy with my letters but perhaps I should discuss with him the issue with when I can find a moment alone with him."

"But I have been wondering," Alys spoke. "You have been unwell these last several days. Each morning I find you sick and unable to break fast with the family." Aida's fingers stopped then as well. "Have you not considered, My Lady, that perhaps you are, with child?"

They were words that stung Selene as she tried to read Alys' expression. With child? Certainly not, she thought. Certainly she would know if she was carrying a child would she not? She tried desperately to remember her mother and the numerous times she had been with child with sons who would never be born. But suddenly she could not remember anything but a swollen belly and a weary temperament.

She glanced down at her stomach, touching the flesh below her belly button. She had not noticed the change in her own body, the skin that was no longer soft and fleshy. It did not give way when she applied pressure and the hardness was evident immediately. There was no denying that something had changed. But was something growing inside of her? A child?

"The timing would be most inopportune," she whispered with wide eyes but both Alys and Aida protested.

"No, My Lady, it would be joyous indeed," Aida encouraged, placing her hands on Selene's shoulders. "If you are with child, you could be carrying the King's son. His heir!"

"Yes and we are also facing an invasion of the North. How am I to hold Winterfell if I am to worry over a child?"

"But imagine how the North would rally if they knew their queen was carrying the future king?" Alys contended. "It could be exactly what the men need to ensure they give their all in your honor."

"_If_ I am even with child," Selene argued, her voice rising as she stood and both Alys and Aida were suddenly very cautious as they helped her carefully out of the tub. "I will speak with the Maester and then decide how to proceed. If I am with child, no one can know. Not until we hear news of the King's victory in the West."

"But surely the King should know that he-" Aida appealed but Selene shook her head.

"Let the King focus on Casterly Rock and I will focus on Winterfell. If we both survive this war, then I will tell him about his child. Otherwise, no one can know, are we understood?" She asserted herself, imparting upon her maids the great need for secrecy if this was the hand she was dealt.

If she was with child the North may rally for her. But it would also paint an even larger target on her back. A queen vying for the Iron Throne was dangerous enough. But a Queen holding a potential heir to two kingdoms would be the nail in her coffin.

* * *

**A/N:** A bit short, a bit boring but also a bit necessary. More coming about the Battle of Blackwater, the siege at Casterly Rock and the Ironborn invasion. I hope you enjoyed, even if it was a little short and not too eventful. Thank you **Immensely **for all of the incredible feedback on the last few chapters. You are all so good to me and for that I am so grateful. I hope you continue to enjoy the story as it unfolds. Lola


	13. Chapter Twelve

****Chapter Twelve****

* * *

SELENE

It had happened.

The West was won.

She read the words again, her eyes dancing over the elated scrawl of her husband's near refined hand. _Victorious_, he'd written. The war had not all been for naught. Tywin Lannister would have no choice but to return Sansa Stark to her brother now. It had been two weeks of utter silence and now she finally had good news to relay to the bannermen who were still housed at Winterfell.

"Is it good news, My Lady?" Aida asked and Selene looked up, realizing the girl had paused her mending of the silk gown draped over her lap and was waiting on baited breath for news from the King.

"It is indeed good news, Aida," Selene whispered in disbelief. "The King has taken the West. Casterly Rock now belongs to the North."

Aida stood, forgetting the silk gown that slid off of her lap and onto the floor alongside the needle and thread. Her eyes were wide as she covered her mouth.

"Truly?" she cried out excitedly. "Can it really be true?"

"Yes," Selene nearly laughed, smiling as well and the two of them stood there laughing in a mixture of both astonishment and glee. "I can assume by now that he should soon be nearing Harrenhal. There he has arranged a prisoner exchange for all high ranking nobles he captured in the West. Tywin Lannister has agreed to return our Lady Sansa as well."

"Oh! Praise the Seven!" Aida cheered, clasping her hands joyfully. "Lady Stark will be overjoyed!"

"Yes, go and tell her. I must find the Maester and relay the news."

Aida was happy to oblige her mistress as she scurried out of the room, holding her skirts as she did so. Selene, meanwhile, was expecting the Maester in her chambers that morning. She had been anxiously pacing since before Gyff brought in the letter with the King's news of the war in the West.

She pressed her hands against her midsection, trying to feel for the lifeform that might be growing inside of her. But there was nothing but taught flesh and a slight discomfort that had plagued her over the last two weeks. She sighed, a shaky sigh that revealed the nerves buried deep within her chest. It was what she was sent to do, was it not? She had been wed to Robb Stark in hopes that their child would bind the two families and one day, their kingdoms. But now, suddenly, the idea was so very nearly a reality. She was the rightful Queen to the Iron Throne. And the child she held in her womb would be the wearer of two crowns.

But only If she could even finish what her father had started.

He'd had an army, an entire fleet of men, that had been defeated in one fell swoop. How was she to take the crown back now? She thought of the Stormlands, of the Reach and of Dorne. She had enemies in every corner but she also had friends. Standing up was an act she was prepared to take, but what if no one stood up beside her?

The Maester's knock brought her back then to that room, her hand on her belly and news of her King's victory in the South. Luwin was a kind man, she had decided. He was a kind man with warm eyes that greeted her cheerfully. By his expression she could only assume Aida had met him with the good news on her way to Lady Stark.

"I am told that celebrations are in order," Luwin told her with a wide grin. Selene nodded.

"Yes, it seems as though Tywin Lannister could not buy himself a victory against our armies," she teased and the Maester laughed at her jest. "I assume Aida relayed the message that His Grace will be stopping to exchange Westerland nobles for Sansa's safety?"

"Yes, I was most pleased at the announcement."

"He has also written that his reinforcements have started North in order to begin eradicating the Ironborn from the Neck. Just yesterday I received word from the Dreadfort that Roose Bolton's bastard brings three hundred men to our gates as well."

"An unfortunate circumstance we are forced to bear but we will soon enough have the King back in the North and back in the halls of Winterfell," Luwin replied and it was as most had replied when hearing of Ramsay Snow's imminent arrival. "Now, My Queen, what is it that you wished to speak with me about in private?"

Selene looked at the Maester. She could trust the man, he had proved that. But saying the words were much more difficult than she had envisioned. So they stood there in silence for many moments before she could garner the courage to simply say what needed to be said.

"I have been unwell these last several weeks," she admitted and the Maester looked over her with concern in his eyes. "I thought nothing of it, that it was perhaps the damp winter winds had affected me so. But as it happens," she rambled. "My last two moon cycles - I have not bled. And I just-"

"And you are wondering if you could be with child?" he supplied with a slight grin and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks. "It is nothing to be ashamed of, Your Grace. In fact, the thought crossed my mind many times as of late. I had noticed several signs in your behavior that hinted towards a possible pregnancy. If we are correct, it would be very welcomed news."

"If I am in fact with child, Maester, I would ask for your discretion. This is not news that would be widely welcomed by all, as I am sure you are aware," she explained in a lowered voice. His expression changed to one of a more serious demeanor. "Not even our King can be told until he has reached Winterfell."

"You think our ravens could be intercepted?" he questioned.

"I think that once the Ironborn reach our gates they will shoot down any raven that leaves your rookery. We cannot allow information of Robb's heir to reach anyone's hands before this invasion has been expelled. Not even the bannermen."

"But perhaps just Lady Stark?" he suggested and she shook her head.

"My mother lost many children early on. Sons that were the hope in my father's plans for continuing the Baratheon name. If anyone were to learn of my condition-" she paused. "We are dealing with a threat to our land. I cannot concern myself with the disappointment of these people. I need their loyalty, not their pity."

"If that is your wish, My Queen, then of course I will abide it," he agreed.

After the Maester's preliminary inquisition of her health and behavior over the last few months since Robb's departure, he could only surmise that pregnancy was quite likely. He told her that Lady Stark had conceived Robb on her wedding night and that the Starks have had very little issue with virility - he'd said when unable to find a better word. But as he spoke of the Starks, she realized that Robb was not her concern. Baratheons too had a long history of larger families, many sons. Her grandmother had three sons it total, and miscarried two others.

Instead it was her mother who gave her pause. Her mother, for whatever reason, had not been able to bear her husband a son. Selene now worried that she would suffer the same fate.

"Your Grace?" the Maester whispered and Selene looked up at him. "Was there anything else that plagued you?"

"No," she answered quickly. "That was all. And thank you, Luwin, again for your discretion."

"Of course," he assured. "I will have a remedy sent up to ease your sickness. It will help in the mornings."

"Thank you," said Selene with a nod of appreciation in his direction and he left her once again to her own thoughts.

Selene dressed herself that morning, finding difficulty only in lacing her corset as she had once had at the inn in Pinkmaiden. Only this time her husband was too far away to be of any assistance to her. Even so, if she closed her eyes and listened to the wind howling over the moors, she could have sworn she could feel his breath on her skin.

She longed for human contact in a way she had never thought possible. Never before had she felt a desire rise inside of her, a longing for a man she barely knew. The night before his departure, she recalled her desperation for a feeling that still felt foreign in her mind. He had inspired a burning deep within her, like coals glowing red and the longer she went without it, the emptier she began to feel.

She managed well enough, cursing only twice as the laces tangled around her fingers. She nearly threw the damn thing against the wall, deciding for a moment to go without it. But she would not be beaten, not by the blasted contraption now lying on her floor. She fiddled with it for what seemed like an eternity before she finally found it adequate and hid her work beneath a dark woolen gown. Her stomach churned unpleasantly as she moved out of the room but she held herself up in the doorframe for just a moment before catching her balance and made her way down into the keep.

There were cheers of excitement, smiles beaming up at her as she passed by as they spoke of their King's victory and of his return. Soon he would be home, she thought and Selene wondered if she could one day call it that as well. He had left Winterfell as Warden of the North and would return as its King.

And if the Maester was correct, Robb would also return as a father.

* * *

ROBB

Victory was still fresh in his veins. He could feel the weight of war lifting ever so slightly from his shoulders as the Lannister banners came into sight. They approached Harrenhahl with haste. Robb had little time to waste in returning North as his queen dealt with the Ironborn invasion. But the exchange of hostages was necessary. Robb had set out to rescue his sisters and despite Arya's disappearance, at the very least he could rest easier knowing Sansa would be safe with him.

Harrenhal was a bleak castle. It was little more than a ruin, rumored to be haunted by the deaths of its former inhabitants, burnt to death by Balerion, "The Black Dread." Selene had told her how fond her sister was of all stories regarding the dragon called Balerion. Robb too had found the stories fascinating as a boy. But looking upon the castle, the charred stone and the rubble scattered carelessly around the wet soil, he knew the beast must have been a terrifying sight to witness.

Tywin Lannister was sitting regally upon his white stallion in full body armor. Robb's armor was not as heavily adorned, but still he too wore his armor as he rode up the path to where the Lannister banners were held, waving wildly as the wind blew and the clouds rumbled far above them. Tywin's expression was indecipherable. It was the first time Robb had ever laid eyes upon the legendary Lannister, but the first thing Robb though as his eyes traveled over the man's face was that he seemed old. His mouth was tight and his eyes as cold as ice.

For many moments they only stared. Neither greeted the other and their men only waited obediently as their horses shifted ever so slightly in the silence. Robb only dared look around for a moment, taking in the faces that looked back at him in disgust. He recognized few, only some of his bannermen who looked gaunt and tired. They had hope in their eyes, more so than the Lannister soldiers whose homelands were now under Robb's charge.

"The Young Wolf," Tywin spoke finally and Robb let his eyes travel back to his slowly, his chin high as he looked at the man, a scowl on his face. "We finally meet."

"I did not come for pleasantries, My Lord Tywin," Robb answered stiffly.

"Of course," the man answered with a small smirk. "I have heard of the Ironborn invasion of the North. Pity the Greyjoy hoard did not follow your rule instead. You might have taken Casterly Rock sooner with fewer lives lost."

"I can assure you that there were fewer casualties on our end than there were on yours. Did you hear how your people suffered? Nearly starved by siege?" Robb asked in disgust and Tywin looked uneffected.

"These are circumstances of war," Tywin reminded him nonchalantly. "Just as this here meeting is a necessity of circumstance. My hostages returned for yours."

Robb glanced back at his men, nodding to the Greatjon who dismounted and started collecting the highborn Westerland hostages they had taken prisoner during the conquest. Tywin issued the same order and finally, amongst all the men's faces, he saw the familiar auburn hair, glowing like a flame as she rushed forward.

Robb dismounted then, and grabbed his sister in his arms, holding her to his chest. She cried into his shoulder, relief pouring from her own as they were finally reunited. He looked at her, smiling for only a moment before whispering to her that she was safe and handing her the reigns to a horse by his side.

Tywin was expectant. And Robb knew why.

"Where is my son?" the man asked and Robb took the opportunity then to once again mount his horse.

"I sent word that the Kingslayer was not part of our agreement."

"I received your letter, though I think it unwise of you to continue to hold my son hostage now that our fight has ended."

"Oh. Our fight, Lord Tywin, is far from ended. My father's death-"

"Was not my doing. Eddard Stark was executed at the behest of the rightful King," Tywin interrupted and Robb could hear the leather in his gloves stretch as he clenched his fists around his reigns.

He would not insult the man or instigate a fight as that was the man's aim. He wanted Robb to divulge Jaime's location, to become so enraged that he would act out emotionally and give Tywin an excuse to cut him down. But Robb would not be so foolish, no matter how desperate he was to do so.

"Your son will be returned once I know the North and the Trident are safe from your army. Attack one of my holdings again, and I will see to his death myself. Your lands will stay under my control until you remove your soldiers from the Riverlands. Any Lannister found to be entering my kingdom for purposes of rebellion or attack will be struck down."

"And yet I am sure you expect my men to allow your Queen to step into the Crowlands and take the Iron Throne without a fight?" Tywin scoffed.

"Selene Baratheon is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. If she seeks to claim her birthright, it will be her decision, one which I will support. But word is spreading, My Lord Tywin, and soon there will be no one left from Oldtown to the Wall who does not know of Cersei's sins. I doubt my wife will have issue finding support in her claim."

"Tread carefully boy," Tywin spat then.

"It is _you_, who ought to tread carefully," Robb retorted vehemently. "I have an entire fleet of ships ready to bring Casterly Rock to rubble. If I find that you betray the honor of our peace agreement, then I will send word and have the Rock reduced to dust."

"Bold words from a boy," Tywin spoke and Robb could not tell if he was impressed or exasperated.

"A boy who just defeated the Great Lion of the Rock," Robb muttered and Tywin's jaw clenched tightly as he rose his chin in defiance.

"Go, save your queen." He paused for a moment, looking back over his shoulder as he turned. "If you can."

Robb did not respond, knowing the man well enough now to understand the meaning. He believed Robb would fail at expelling the Ironborn from the North.

Let him.

* * *

SELENE

Brienne of Tarth was the tallest woman Selene had ever seen in her twenty-one years. Even from where Selene sat in the dining hall, watching the woman towering over Lady Stark, she was sure there had ever been a woman to equal her.

It had been two days since the woman arrived at the gates of Winterfell demanding to speak with Lady Stark herself. It had been a miracle, the people had declared when they spotted Arya Stark in Lady Brienne's charge. Catelyn had broken down in tears as she held her daughter for the first time in nearly a year since their separation at King's Landing. Selene thought Arya was a boy upon first appearances, but upon closer look it was very difficult to mistake her feminine eyes and mouth for that of a male even if her hair had been cropped as short as it was.

Selene had only spoken with her briefly but even in that short meeting she could see that war had scarred her. Arya had seen far too much war and tragedy than any child ought to. But Selene had been a child of war. She knew the consequences to such exposure. Lady Stark wondered where the shine in Arya's eyes had gone, the playful brilliance faded and replaced by something much darker. Selene recognized the darkness. It mirrored her own.

A young man accompanied Arya, and the moment Selene's eyes met his she was certain her heart had stopped briefly. It was a chilling sight, the boy who was so very much her Uncle Renly in nearly every aspect. His eyes and his mouth, his Baratheon black hair that gave her pause. But this boy was not Renly, and from the arch in his cheekbones she saw that it was not Renly's bastard either. The boy was very much a product of another uncle. Robert's bastard, she thought. Robert had numerous bastards and not just in King's Landing. She thought for the briefest moment as the boy walked through the castle doors that it had been her bastard cousin Edric Storm, the resemblance was startling. But Edric was gone, she recalled, sent to Dragonstone under the protection of her father. She tried not to wonder if he too was dead.

Selene looked down at the child who had insisted he sit upon her lap during the feast. It was with great reluctance that Selene had finally agreed, and there Rickon Stark had sat through the majority of the feast and dancing that took place, laughing and playing absently with her hair as he watched the merriment. Selene found that despite her earlier hesitation, she perhaps did not mind the weight of the boy as much as she thought she would. He did not bother her, only laid his head against her chest as she held him around the waist. It left the use of her left hand available and as Rickon's eyes fell slightly as the hour grew late, Selene was free to glance back down at the parchment in her hands, rereading Robb's letter with news of his and Sansa's departure from Harrenhal. It was a relief to read such news, knowing that before long Robb would return to Winterfell and the North would then look to him. To a Stark and not the Baratheon that many of them still narrowed their eyes at.

Robb's words sought to comfort her. He was always much kinder than she was, she realized as her eyes traveled over the words. He sent words of reassurance and support, rarely mentioning her father or her sister because even in their short acquaintance he already knew she did not desire a reminder of what fate most likely awaited them. He sounded happy, at least as happy as one could be during war. Victory had boosted his morale and despite his concern over the Ironborn, his confidence shone through and the excitement in his words made the corners of her mouth twitch into an almost smile.

Selene excused herself from the dining hall, setting Rickon down into the arms of Alys who took the boy to his chambers, carrying him easily in her arms as not to wake him. Selene, meanwhile found herself in Lord Stark's study. The room was still very much as the man had left it upon his departure. Books lay open with pages marked and notes scribbled in the margins that Selene could just barely make out. She let her hand trace over the pages, ignoring the more urgent letters, updates from her men about the Ironborn ravaging the shores of the North. She had read those letters dozens of times and she knew that any day now there would be Iron Islanders at their gates.

Ramsay Snow's letter was hardly more comforting than his previous. He was at Torrhen's Square now having defeated what he could of the Ironborn at the Rills. Robb's letter indicated Roose Bolton would be arriving soon as well with the rest of his Bolton forces. He would take back Moat Cailin and restore order above and below the Neck for Robb's return. Selene knew it would not be so easy. Bolton men were weary for home. Victarion Greyjoy had brought with him the best fighters from the Iron Islands. And they would not give up the Neck without a proper fight.

She thought of her warship, still unfinished. It would be months before she could set sail upon the _Winter's Fury_ and by then, if she truly was with child, her belly would be much too fat to command any fleet. If Victarion was not defeated, the North would still be in his grasp so long as he held the Neck.

The large map in front of her gave her thoughts pause as she stared down at Westeros. The Kingdoms were carved up now, divided by loyalties and by war. The North belonged to the Starks, a dominion that had not ruled on its own since the King Who Knelt. And yet the Ironborn's grip on the Neck separated a king from his kingdom. The Vale was still undecided, still neutral in a war where every soldier made the difference between a victory or the decimation of the lineages of the great houses of Westeros. The Crownlands were handily in the Lannisters control, hand in hand with the Tyrells whose pockets were deep enough to keep the Iron Throne so long a they could continue to buy loyalties.

But Selene did not worry so much over the Tyrells as perhaps Robb did. Robb knew that while he held the Westerlands firmly in his grasp, he could not strike at Tywin while the Tyrell's army was backing the Lannisters. Selene on the other hand knew that Tyrells could be won. Not bought with gold they were already swimming, but in other ways. She just had to bide her time.

When her hand traveled over Dragonstone her fingers curled under her palms until it became a fist. Maester Luwin's second fastest raven had still not returned from Dragonstone, had still not returned with word of Shireen, of her father or of Davos. There was nothing and therefore she could not yet know if she should grieve the loss of her sister.

She did not feel dead, Selene often reminded herself. Surely she would know, surely she would feel that piece of her ripped from her soul if her sister was taken from this world. And yet she felt nothing except frustration and dread. If she was able to protect the North, keep it from falling before her husband could reclaim it, then perhaps then she would find away to seek the Iron Throne. It was her fight now, she reminded herself and she could hear her father's voice in her head.

"Ours is the Fury," she whispered, closing her eyes.

It was the last moment of grief she allowed herself that night before grabbing finding Aida and having her fetch a cloak so she could take a turn around the godswood. The night was the coldest yet and she knew now why Robb had told her once that she had never experienced true winter until stepping foot in the North. She shivered slightly, feeling Aida and Ysmay's presence somewhere behind her as she stepped through the woods, Angus by her side. He trotted happily, the sound of his paws snapping branches and the wind wailing through the trees were the only sounds other than her wandering thoughts. She thought perhaps if she listened hard enough that she could hear the whispers of the Old Gods who the Northmen worshiped.

Gyff would be sure to scold her for leaving without his company, but if this was to be her home, then she had to show the people she did not fear them. She did not need her guard to follow her through every corridor and courtyard of the castle she aimed to protect. Aida and Ysmay stopped some distance away. Selene could hear their giggles in the darkness and the moonlight was bright enough that she could see them sitting just near the outer part of the wood. They feared the godswood, she remembered. The sight of the faces carved into the weirwoods made them anxious while Selene simply found them to be intriguing.

She stood before a great heart tree then, staring up at the large face and the weeping eyes. The leaves were as red as fire and they swung wildly as the wind brushed through them, pulling and tugging at its branches with the same ferocity that it did her hair. It was the sound of the wind that slightly masked the footsteps that approached. But not enough that she did not hear them. The steps were heavy and she could still hear the oblivious chatter of her maids some distance away so she assumed whoever was behind her, two figures she counted by the sounds, they were men. Her fingers moved down to the dagger hidden beneath the cloak. She gripped the hilt tightly with her right had. Angus growled low and deep.

"It is much too late, My Lady, to be out and about in the godswood unaccompanied," she heard and Selene only turned her head slightly to glance over her shoulder at the two figures. Both were dressed in black, their hair a matching shade. They were tall, but only one was taller than she was and if they meant her harm, she thought perhaps she could take one before Aida and Ysmay could run for help.

"I need no protection in these woods," she replied and her voice was stern. One of the men laughed, despite Angus' growl, and Selene wondered if she had heard the familiar rumble before. She turned completely then, looking into the eyes of the strangers who stood before her.

"We are brothers of the Watch, My Lady," the young man introduced. "We have travelled a long distance to have audience with the Queen." Selene shifted slightly as her chin rose and the second man grinned widly.

"I think, nephew," the taller and older of the two began. "That this here _is_ our Queen in the North. Look there at her scowl. I daresay I recognize Stannis Baratheon's tight-lipped expression even in his own daughter."

The man's voice was warm and his tone a more playful tone than she had expected. But in pairing with his hearty laugh and his Stark grey eyes, Selene knew immediately why everything about this man seemed so familiar to her. He was Lord Stark's younger brother. Benjen Stark, of the Night's Watch.

"I had heard you were presumptuous," she replied without a hint of amusement in her voice. "But my husband did not tell me that his uncle would be coming south."

"You did call for Jon Snow, did you not?" he asked and Selene's eyes traveled down to the young man at his side. She could see it then, the resemblance that she had heard was more striking than Lord Stark's own trueborn son. Robb had his father's honor, his father's bravery and even his father's smile. But Robb had the looks of a Tully. This young man before him, dressed in black furs and a stony expression, was without a doubt all Stark.

"I did not think you would come," she replied, her eyes catching his and she could tell he was surprised that she did not talk down to him as he had most likely been all his life. "Have you come then to tell me your answer?"

"Is this not a conversation better had before your council?" Jon asked and she let her frown deepen.

"We are having it now," she instructed. "Tell me what you have come to say." Benjen tried to hold back a chuckle as she spoke but Jon seemed slightly taken aback at her directness.

"We cannot help in the wars of men, Your Grace," Jon answered but his confidence seemed shaken slightly as he spoke. He looked up at his uncle for assistance but his eyes only stayed straight on Selene. "We have sworn an oath not to choose sides or choose loyalties with any king amongst the Seven Kingdoms."

It was an answer she had not hoped she would have to hear. These men may have been sworn brothers of the Night's Watch but despite their vows they were born Northmen and their home was under attack. She was not surprised by their answer. But she was angry.

"You rode a very long way to disappointment me," she answered turning back towards the tree and turning her back to the men behind her. She placed her hand upon Angus' head to ease his growling. The hound sat at her side, his eyes focused solely on the men at his mistress's back.

"It may not be the answer you hoped for, Your Grace," Benjen Stark said then, his footsteps louder as he approached and stood at her side. She did not look up. "But could we help, we would. We have not forgotten that Winterfell is our home. And were I not pledged to the Watch I would raise my sword to defend it and my nephew's new throne."

"I know the Night's Watch oath," she whispered and she could see her breath against the moonlight. "You say you are 'the shield that guards the realms of men' and yet you would stand and watch men destroy men until there are none left to protect. Until each realm has fallen into ruin because of the wars raging around us." Neither spoke nor answered and she knew that at the very least they knew she was right. "I still do not understand why you came all the way here to tell me what could have easily been sent by raven," she hissed, glancing up at him.

"We have come with other news," Jon answered. "News of a very different enemy that threatens our gates as well."

She furrowed her brow as she looked over her shoulder at Jon Snow who still stood off alone as she and Benjen watched as he spoke.

"What threat? I have every King in Westeros trying to kill me and my family to ensure I don't take the Iron Throne. What enemy do I have at my back now?" she asked and at this Jon looked to his uncle. This time, Benjen acquiesced his nephew's plea.

"White Walkers roamed these lands once, long before my ancestors built the Wall to seal them off from our Kingdoms. We have been the watchers on the wall ever since, waiting for the day that another threat might return."

"White Walkers?" she asked skeptically. "Your Lord Commander sent you to me so you could tell me bedtime stories?" She was frustrated now, angry that these two men had come to try her patience and waist her time with nonsense.

"It is not a bedtime story, My Lady," Jon warned but it was not in anger, it was with fear in his voice that he spoke. "I have seen them myself, dead men turned to mindless creatures, controlled only by their lust for blood. Wights." She looked from Jon to Benjen, neither wore a smile. Neither looked disingenuous.

"The Others have not walked this land in eight _thousand_ years and you say now that winter is soon upon us, we are to have not only the Kingdoms at war with themselves, but soon I am to be at war with an enemy I know nothing about aside from what my septa read to me in fairytale books?"

"It does sound mad, I know," Benjen pleaded. "But _Winter is Coming_ and with it an army of the dead."

Selene considered this for many moments. Considered what it could mean if the Others had truly risen. If there were creatures of old that were raising an army beyond the wall. It was the Night's Watch who defeated them thousands of years prior. It would be the Night's Watch who would do it again, she decided. And then suddenly, she realized what it was the Lord Commander wanted from her, and why he'd sent these two men, Starks, to Winterfell in the first place. Not to give her his reply. But for her help.

"The Lord Commander denies my plea with a plea of his own. Is that not why you are here?" she asked then, her voice rising. Jon and Benjen's eyes fell and she knew her thoughts were confirmed. "How many men does Jeor Mormont command now?" she asked. "Do you even have a hundred brothers at the Wall anymore?"

"Only just, My Lady," Benjen whispered and she shook her head.

"Only just," she repeated a slight scoff at the end of her words. "Do you know how many men I have left here?" she questioned and neither Benjen nor Jon replied. "I have fifty men surrounding Winterfell. The rest of the King's bannermen that he has not taken south are fighting an Ironborn invasion. Twelve of my ships are still unaccounted for on the coast. That is over five hundred men lost. I have very little to protect the North as it is. I have no one to spare unless the Watch is now taking women and elderly?"

"I did inform the Lord Commander that any contribution from the North would be limited and therefore advised him against it," Jon tried to explain and she shook her head.

"If I had the numbers, I would send aid. But I simply have no men to spare. Any day now I could have Victarion Greyjoy at these gates asking for my surrender. Robb is still south of the Trident trying to rally what is left of his army. A third of his men are still in the Westerlands. I am left all but defenseless. I need every sword in the North at my command."

Neither men looked disappointed in her answer. In fact, she thought perhaps that Benjen looked somewhat impressed though she was not at all sure why. Jon still was not sure what to make of her and Selene thought the feeling was mutual. Angus was sniffing the air with a grumble here and there as he tried to keep up his pretence of ferocity. For a brother of Robb, Jon did not seem at all like she thought he would. Robb had mentioned Jon several times during their limited time together but as she stared upon him, she thought that perhaps he had been describing someone very different.

Still, this was Robb's family. And by extension, they were hers as well. She did not want to think that this new Stark family was all she had left in the world. But if they were she would do her utmost to treat them as such.

So she sighed and motioned to her ladies who were now standing off in the distance more attentively than they had before they saw the two figures approaching. They hurried over, clutching their cloaks around their shoulders and bowed, awaiting instruction.

"Please pardon my abruptness, My Lords. I have been remiss in my duties as hostess," she said after a long sigh. "Aida, Ysmay, find chambers in the main house for our two guests. Have Alys sent up baths to their rooms as well."

"Yes My Queen," the two young women replied quickly and then rushed off towards the castle walls, leaving the three figures standing alone once again in the dark. Selene started slowly towards the castle as well with one last look over her shoulder at the weirwood. Jon and Benjen followed, only one step behind.

"We cannot stay for long," Benjen told her. "We must return to the Wall as soon as possible."

"You will rest and feast and enjoy the company of your family while you are here," she instructed and neither opened their mouths to argue. She turned then to look at Jon and then Benjen. "I would have a moment with Jon," she said and Benjen smiled softly, bowing his head and then took her hand in his. She felt herself flinch slightly at his touch but there was only fondness in his eyes.

"It is a honor, My Queen, to finally meet you," was all he said and placed the back of her fingers to his lips and then placed her hand back at her side and made his way into the castle.

Selene tried not to show her discomfort as she shifted her fingers as they hung down at her side and she looked at Jon, nearly the same height as herself. She wanted to speak, but was postponed as she looked into his eyes and after several minutes she realized she was searching for something familiar, some features that belonged to Robb that might give her some bit of comfort but there was nothing. These two boys were brothers and yet they could not look more different, she thought.

"He speaks fondly of you," she breathed and she was not sure why it mattered to him that she say such things. She did not need to clarify, however, who she meant. They both know she spoke of Robb. "He said above all I can trust you," she informed him. "That you would always be true to your family if you could, regardless of your vow."

"It is true. I take my vow very seriously. But I do not know that I could turn my back on my family if they were truly in need," he admitted and she nodded.

"If that be the case then, I may have need of your services."

"I would fight for you if I could but-"

"Not of your sword, Jon Snow," she interrupted. "It is your family I speak of." But he did not understand. She glanced around her, slowly to make sure they would not be overheard and began again. "If Robb does not return to Winterfell in time, if the Bolton men fail to eradicate the Ironborn rebellion, I will have no choice but to send your family from here."

"My father said there must always be a Stark in Winterfell," he explained.

"If I allow any of them to stay within this walls when danger comes, then there will be no Starks left to sit on it's throne at all. My duty is not to your father's superstition. It is to my husband and I have vowed to protect this family at all costs," she countered. "It is with that vow that I would require your help."

"How would I be of any help at the wall."

"I fear, Jon, that you will not return to the Wall if my scouts are correct," she whispered.

"I do not understand."

"I received word, this evening from one of my scouts near Barrowton. He informed me that there is a large group of Victarion Greyjoy's men traveling north to meet Ramsay Snow's soldiers near Torrhen's. But he also wrote that there were men spotted in the Wolfswood. If I send more men to Ramsay, I will not have enough to guard the castle from the invasion from the west. Which means I will need to send the family as far from here as I can when the time comes."

"And how long until they are here?"

"I expect they will be here by nightfall tomorrow," she said in a ghostly whisper and Jon's eyes widened.

"Have you informed the men?"

"Yes, but that is all. I cannot incite a panic. If we can defeat the small host then this plan will be of little consequence. But if it turns out that I cannot hold this castle, then I need you to take them somewhere safe."

"And you?" he added as if she'd left out herself as a slip of the mind but she simply shook her head.

"If I leave they will hunt us down. We cannot all leave at once. I will stay behind long enough to allow sufficient time for your escape."

"Robb would not agree to that," he argued and Selene rose her chin.

"Robb is not here," she reminded him.

Jon did not like her plan because they both knew it put her at a risk that Robb would not agree to. But she knew if there was a choice, between Robb's family and his new wife, that he would make the hard decision to save his family. They were still near strangers, she thought. She would not risk their capture for her own selfish desires. She was Queen in the North and she would stand her ground.

For Robb and for the North.

"Who is leading the host of Ironborn from the west?" Jon asked then.

"You should know him well," she told him, shifting so that her eyes met his. "He was your foster brother."

Jon's eyes were wider now as he spoke, fury in his voice.

"Theon."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! And thank you to all of you who have been reviewing and favoriting and following, or just keeping up in general. Your reviews are so inspiring and I am trying to go through and thank you each (by PM) one by one but please be patient with me if you can. I am trying to keep up but I have taken quite a bit onto my plate with all of these stories. No excuses though. Please just continue to enjoy the chapters. And if you get a moment, please let me know what you thought! Thanks! Lola **


	14. Chapter Thirteen

****Chapter Thirteen****

* * *

SELENE

Selene had tried to sleep, she honestly had. But somewhere between the wee hours of the night and the dawn peeking over the horizon in the east, she could only stand at the window and watch the winter winds rushing over the moors. She was searching for what was coming, for the men who would try and pry Winterfell from her.

They would have to pry it from her cold dead fingers.

She would not give in, she decided. She would be outnumbered in the fight, that she knew. She had no choice but to send near half of the men she had left standing guard around Winterfell to Ramsay in aid. Ser Rodrik had called it a foolish decision. But what he really was saying that _she_ was foolish. He often made it known that he believed her decisions were rash and unwise. Selene knew the way they looked at her, the way the men laughed behind her back because she was a woman, how could she possibly understand how to defend a castle, they would whisper.

But they would see, she reminded herself. The Greyjoy men who were near upon them would be a small party from what her scouts had informed her. They had enough to overwhelm her guards if they were taken by surprise. But she had spent the evening preparing the castle for the invasion. She had informed the council, explaining what was to happen in the coming day and that once Theon Turncloak stepped inside the gates of Winterfell, he would not be leaving them a free man. He would claim no victory and he would taste the wrath for his betrayal to the Starks.

The fire in her room had died sometime during the night, she had not noticed when. Her breath was visible now, and she had not noticed she was shivering until her teeth began to clatter together in agony. She pulled her furs tighter over her shoulders, watching the sun's rays pierce through the heavy fog.

Alys did not knock on her door as she entered, but by the woman's wide eyes she could tell she was surprised at how she found Selene that morning. She immediately started out the door, ordering the guard outside in the corridor to fetch some wood for the Queen's fire, and then returned to grab one of Selene's thicker dresses and started preparing it for the day.

"It is freezing in here, My Lady," Alys scolded, a tone that she often took with Selene - who despite her seriousness found it quite amusing. "Have you been sitting in here like this all night?"

"I know how to start a fire, Alys," Selene retorted and Alys only rolled her eyes.

"Well then next time don't let me find you in here next to a cold hearth. I don't care how warm the hot springs under Winterfell may flow."

"Are you _commanding_ me?" Selene asked with an amused lift of her brow.

"I am indeed, Your Grace. You'll fall ill if you sit around here in the cold, with the window open the way you have it," the girl muttered, rushing over to the window and pulling the shutters closed. She then turned to Selene and shook her head. "Look at yourself. You're lips are nearly blue," Alys disapproved.

"Cease your fussing," Selene told the girl finally, walking towards the blankets with her hand over her stomach and she slid herself beneath the furs. "I need you to bring Aida to me this morning," she told Alys who was pouring her a small cup of the remedy prescribed by Maester Luwin.

"I saw her in the kitchens on my way up, seeing to the staff as you instructed," Alys informed.

"Yes but it is time she and I discussed our plan," Selene informed and Alys paused her movements and looked up at her curiously.

"You do not mean that you are still intending to stay, My Lady?" Alys asked slowly. "If the Ironborn do invade, I have heard talk of what they do to their captives, noble or no," Alys spat and Selene sighed.

"I will have no choice. I am Winterfell's queen and I will not allow it to fall at the hands of a Greyjoy," she ground out. "Now, go and find Aida and bring Ysmay as well. I have arranged for the three of you to be looked after."

"Begging your pardon, My Lady, but I need no looking after," Alys spoke plainly. "Send away the girls but you'll not find me running from these walls so long as you are under them."

They were kind words beneath the disguise of insult. Selene had always found Alys to be the most amusing and loyal of her maids. Alys did not fear Selene, and often delighted in instigating verbal spats between the two of them. And Alys had always been good at gathering information. Selene never asked how the woman pried away some of the secrets she discovered, though she assumed it had something to do with the woman's beauty. Alys had a fine face and an enviable figure. She had a large bosom and a beautiful pink mouth that made all the men stare after her. Wherever she went, the men were sure to follow.

"Your Grace," a male voice called from the door and Selene turned to see Jon Snow was standing there, firewood in his hands alongside a breathtaking white direwolf. "I was in the courtyard when your guard came down in search for firewood," he informed her and she stared at him and his direwolf for only a few moments before nodding and motioning to the fireless pit. She stood then as she watched him work.

"You did not have to bother yourself with such a chore, Jon," she told him as Angus stood from Selene's bed and hopped down on the floor in front of her and began growly at the man or the beast, she did not know which. "Oh Angus, do be quiet," she scolded boredly.

Ghost did not growl. He simply sat quietly by his master's side as the man worked and Angus did quiet down but not completely as he laid in front of his mistress, small growls escaping his throat as he watched the two guests anxiously. Alys stayed in the corner, finishing the mending of Selene's dress. She gave Selene a careful glance when Jon's back was turned but neither said a word, despite the Alys' attempts to inform Selene that Jon's presence in the Queen's chambers was amusing.

"Have you spoken with your uncle yet this morning?" Selene asked Jon, sitting down at the small table across from Alys. For the first time in weeks she was hungry and she tried to ignore the growling in her stomach, which seemed to amuse Ghost the direwolf who tilted his head from side to side.

"He went out before dawn with your scouts," Jon replied as he stoked the fire and a bright flame appeared. "He informed me he would be back in time to breakfast with the family."

"I thought it was him I saw leaving gates, but it was much too dark to be sure," she contemplated, almost to herself. "I sent word of your stay to your brother. He should receive it upon his arrival to Riverrun. I believe he should be arriving there any day now with your sister in tow. I hope you will have a chance to see him. It has been many months has it not?" she asked and Jon smiled.

"Nearly a year now since I left for the Wall," he confirmed, standing and dusting the soot off of his black cloak. "It is the longest we have ever been apart since our infancy."

"Never in my life have I been away from Shireen so long," she realized. But she paused her thoughts then, realizing the tension it had caused for the two people who now looked away from her gaze. "You know the Maester's raven never returned from Dragonstone," she told them. "It still gives me hope. Perhaps misguided, but I will not let go of that hope until I know for sure."

"It is not misguided, Your Grace, to have faith in those you love," Jon whispered and she nodded.

Aida walked by then, her hands full with firewood and she frowned when she saw the fire burning in the hearth. Jon took the wood from her hands and placed it on the stone floor and she smiled in thanks.

"Someone told me you needed firewood, My Lady. I did come as fast as I could," the girl insisted and Selene held up her hand to pause the girl's worrying.

"Do not fret, Aida," she replied. "You have done quite enough this morning in the kitchens. Come, we have much to discuss."

The girl did not move at first, glancing down at where Ghost was lying close at the hearth and she wrung her hands anxiously. Aida had never been overly fond of dogs or a large size, let alone a direwolf. She'd only seen Grey Wind, and his enormity had frightened her so much that she'd nearly fainted at the sight of him. Selene recognized the girl's fear, but would not turn out the wolf whose familiarity had given her some comfort. Instead, she held out her hand.

"Come, Aida. Remember the Stark direwolves are no threat to you," she stated and Aida nodded, slowly walking past Ghost who did not even lift his head as she tip-toed by. "There, see. He couldn't be more uninterested," she teased and Aida sighed slightly in relief as she took the seat at her queen's side. As Jon started towards the door she glanced up. "Stay," she insisted. "I am afraid this concerns you as well." she informed and he paused his steps. "Though, if you wouldn't mind closing the door." Jon did so but did not sit. There was no fourth chair but she could tell he preferred his place by the fire anyways.

"My Lady I beg of your to reconsider," was Alys' whispered plea but Selene's look silenced her.

"Jon, I have already discussed with you my intentions for the Stark family if things are to get out of hand. We will indeed be outnumbered but I do not believe we will lose Winterfell so long as my plan succeeds. If it does not, however, I will need you to hold to your promise to get the Starks to safety.

"I still do not believe your staying will be of any benefit," he reiterated bluntly. "You are the Queen in the North and should your safety become threatened, you should flee as far as you can from this place."

"Are you finished?" she asked, eyeing him curiously as his face flushed in frustration. "Have you ever met Aida, Jon?" she asked and he looked towards the younger woman who finally lifted her eyes from her hands and gave her best smile.

"I have only made her a brief acquaintance," he admitted.

"Do you not find a certain familiarity about her?" Selene asked then and Jon glanced over Aida's features momentarily before his eyes widened. "Aida has been with me since I was a child. Her father, Andrew Estermont was once my father's squire as a young man. He was also my grandmother's nephew, making Aida a cousin of none too distant relation. As she grew, my father agreed to allow her to be a playmate of my own. Of course Aida is a few years younger than myself, but as years went by, many began to confuse the two of us. My father found use of it, knowing one day that there was always a possibility I may have to take the throne."

"She is your double," Jon surmised and Selene nodded.

"She will travel with you, Gyff as well, in order to help convince that I have fled. Once you have all escaped, I will pose as a maid until I can join as well," she explained and while perhaps Jon might have been impressed with her plan, he was not very eager to see it put into action. "It is only a security," she reminded them. "So long as my plan to overthrow Theon's men succeeds, I will have no reason to put it into motion. But if I do, I will need your complete compliance. Do you understand how vital it is?" she asked. "If Aida is posing as queen, she must act like me, and must be addressed as anyone would the Queen in the North."

There were many moments of silent that passed between the four of them then. Jon of course agreed that he would do as Selene had instructed but he was reluctant, as he had been since his arrival. She understood, surely. He was a brother of the Night's Watch. But the circumstances could not be ignored. She needed her plan to succeed, and without the assurance of safety of her new family, she could not be sure it would.

Jon left the ladies to prepare for the evening. Aida would dress in Selene's finest gown and Selene, in turn, would dress in a simple wool dress with her hair tied back in one simple plait over her shoulder. Aida paced nervously, her shoes clicking against the stone floors. Neither had ever wished for circumstance to reach this point. They had once admitted that neither had particularly wished for the other's life. But soon, it might come into effect. Selene knew what it meant if Aida was to become Queen in the North in her place. Selene would be forced to be nobody of consequence. And she could not afford to reveal herself to anyone unless the situation was dire.

Selene and Aida had prepared for this most of their lives. But deep down, Selene hoped she would have no need of it.

* * *

ROBB

Robb did not usually like to read letters during meals with his family. But when he had sat down to supper with his uncle and sister, Olyvar had arrived to hand him a letter than had been awaiting his arrival. It was from the Queen, he'd been told and Robb had craved word from the North for too many days to allow it to go unread until he was alone.

_Dear Robb,_ she'd written and Robb had began to grow fond of the way she wrote his name, her refined hand and looped letters.

_The North is overwhelmed with excitement at the news of your victory in the Westerlands. The people of Winterfell shout your name in adoration at the welcome announcement despite the circumstances we are forced to bear. A woman named Maude who works in the kitchens just gave birth to a son not two days past. She has decided to call him Robb because, as she explained to me, "No other name is as worthy."_

_Amongst the news of your victory, you will also be happy to hear that your sister, Arya, has returned to Winterfell accompanied by Brienne of Tarth. Lady Brienne was in service to your mother and went in search of your sisters some time after our marriage took place. I am not sure I have ever met her equal. I should think you would find her a most amiable woman, a woman who your mother would trust with her life. She is wary of me, however, and I cannot say that I entirely blame her. She was part of my Uncle Renly's kingsguard and witnessed his death. I am sure you can understand, as well as I, why she might be a little hesitant to kneel before me._

_I was distracted from the worry over the Ironborn with the arrival of your brother, Jon Snow, as well as your Uncle Benjen. Both have been very welcoming of me though they did bring the news of the Lord Commander's decision to remain neutral despite my request for aid. My disappointment has been noted, I am told, and though they cannot be of any help in the fight against the Victarion's men, Jon and Benjen are staying through the week per my request._

_Jon has brought with him Ghost the direwolf. He reminds me of Grey Wind in nearly every way but his coloring. Angus is most put out with Grey's prolonged separation but I feel he is warming to his cousin well enough._

_I have received regular updates from Ramsay Snow, though I still await word from Roose Bolton who is still yet to reach Winterfell. My scouts have yet to find Lord Bolton's men anywhere north of the Neck but I have instructed them to send word the moment they make contact. Most of the Ironborn in Barrowlands have been eradicated and Cley Cerwyn is optimistic that he can keep hold of our outposts._

_My biggest concern lies west of us, as I am sure you have heard from the council. Theon Greyjoy was spotted near Winterfell and I expect he and his men will reach our walls the day after next. Support here is limited and I have few men left that are not already fighting the Ironborn threat alongside the other Northern lords whom I've committed south of here. However, I have devised a plan and while most of the council does not seem enthusiastic in my strategy, I believe it is the option which will lead to the best outcome._

_By the time you read this letter I believe my plan will already be underway. I have seen to the safety of your family and I will not allow harm to come to them should things begin to look bleak. Jon and I have quarrelled much on this matter and while I see little resemblance between the two of you in appearance, I daresay arguing with him is much like arguing with you. I am ashamed to say that I am amused in knowing I may have infuriated him to wit's end. I fear you'd agree with him, however. He reminds me of that each day with his sour expressions. He tells me that I am wrong and that you would never allow me to stay at Winterfell to protect our Kingdom._

_You are angry now, I can almost see that frown upon your lips and the furrow in your brow. But do know I have taken every precaution for the safety of not only your family, but this household - myself included. My decision was not reckless nor was it it ill-advised. I have taken into account all options and have weighed this to be the best. Your Uncle Benjen and each member of the council will stay behind at Winterfell should things go awry. Know that I do not anticipate, nor will I accept, defeat._

_In the meantime I quell my boredom by indulging myself in your various gifts from the Westerlands. I have found that each book has immensely improved my education, though I have no doubt you will want to evaluate the success of my skills yourself upon your return. I know you must take great pleasure in knowing that I was forced to open your most recent gift in front of your mother. It goes without saying that neither of us has mentioned the incident but I thought I might have seen her crack a smile._

_I do have news, something of a nature which I believe will please you. Unfortunately it is news which I must relay in person. So do hurry home, Your Grace._

_Until then I remain your proud wife,_  
_Selene_

Robb could not help but grin at her words. He was angry but not so much that he couldn't enjoy the humor in her letter. He would scold his wife the moment he saw her again. Tell her how foolish she was for staying at Winterfell when there was danger. But for now he would reread the words that were normally cool and precise with calculated news from the North. Now the warmth in them was almost tangible and Robb thought perhaps he could indeed imagine her embarrassment as she had described it.

Sansa leaned over, grinning at him as she whispered, "It must be good news from your queen, Robb, if she has you smiling in such a manner."

"Oddly, no," he laughed. "My queen writes to tell me that she is putting her safety at risk for our people and while I think she might be the most foolish woman in the world for doing so, I find it strangely admirable. She might be the most infuriating woman in all the land and yet she continues to find ways to impress me."

"What does Mother say about her?"

"Far too much, unfortunately. And not much of it is laced with any hint of fondness. The two have had a rough start but I think perhaps they might be coming around to the idea of one another," Robb explained and Sansa laughed.

"I always did think Mother would hate your wife, though she was so convinced she would be the loveliest of girls," Sansa replied and then looked at Robb thoughtfully. "What _is_ she like, this Baratheon of yours? I can say if she is anything like her cousin-"

"Selene is nothing like Joffrey, Sansa. Don't worry about him anymore. Selene may be abrasive at first but she is fiercely loyal and more clever than most men in terms of war and her ships. She even talked down the Blackfish if I recall correctly," Robb teased then, looking up and his great uncle, Ser Brynden who shot him a look over his goblet of wine pressed firmly to his lips.

"As I recall, I was the one giving your queen an earful, that furious little imp," he teased and Robb let out a great laugh despite his sister's aghast look at the Blackfish's comment.

"My wife has a very stubborn mind. I think it is that part of here where the Baratheon seems to take most of its hold on her," Robb told Sansa. "And she may have a bit too much of her father in her because I swear it takes all of me to make that woman smile. But she is a good woman, a woman who, despite the circumstances, I have become quite fond of. I did not want a wife, let alone a marriage to Selene Baratheon. But our brief time together was enough to convince me that there may be hope for us once the war has passed."

"The men say she cannot hold the North," Sansa reminded him. "Do you think she will?"

"I think that if Selene Baratheon cannot hold the North, then there is no hope to be had."

Someone burst through the hall then, distracting Robb from the news in his letter as heads turned towards the interrupted. Several soldiers ran over to him, out of breath and eyes wide.

"What is it?" he asked and they each bowed before him curtly before answering.

"It is the Kingslayer, Your Grace," one man replied. "He has escaped the dungeons." At the news Robb's stomach twisted.

"How?" he asked and none of the men seemed particularly eager to reply. "HOW!?" he shouted again, his fist slamming into the table so much that each one of them flinched.

"We are not yet sure who is responsible, Your Grace," another man began calmly. "But one of the men on the watchtower saw the man escape on horseback." Robb waited, his expression expectant. The man leaned in as his eyes traveled somewhere over Robb's shoulder. "The horse was wearing Frey colors, My King."

Robb swallowed. Hard. The possibility of a Frey betrayal put into question the loyalty of their house, alongside the rest of his men. Someone, most likely Tywin, had bought his son's freedom.

Now Robb had to discover if he'd bought the loyalty of one man, or of an entire House.

* * *

ALYS

Silence was heavy, weighing upon every man in the Great Hall of Winterfell. Only the sound of slow and deliberate footsteps echoed off the stone and Alys was certain that not a soul dared to breathe as they watched their Queen pace in front of her prisoner. Their Queen stood before the man who had been shoved to his knees, shackles binding his wrists and while he wore only an expression of defiance, Alys knew that once Selene was through with him, he would only wear fear.

Theon Greyjoy had done his very best to take the castle. He had known every nook and secret of Winterfell, having been a hostage of the fortress for nearly all of his life. He had expected resistance and knew how to overcome it should he meet it. But when he stepped through the gates of Winterfell, he had not faced any resistance whatsoever. Winterfell seemed all near abandoned and in his hubris, he had believed himself a victor before he'd even stepped foot into the Great Hall.

It was there, Aida had sat, upon the great throne that had once sat Kings of Winter centuries before. Aida did not flinch as the man walked towards her, sword in hand and covered in loose armor bearing the Kraken sigil. In fact, she did not even speak as he announced that he was taking her as his hostage or even when he told her she was to bow at his feet.

The only one who flinched was Theon Greyjoy when he felt cold steel against his throat.

There were few memories in Alys' mind in which she could recall a smile from Selene Baratheon. A handful of times, at best, had she caught her mistress grinning at anything or anyone. This, Alys told herself, would be a smile ingrained in her mind for the rest of her days as she watched her Queen smirking victoriously as she held a dagger to Theon's throat with another precariously placed against his bullocks.

Selene Baratheon perhaps did not have the experience that Alys did when it came to men. However, there was no match to the Queen, in her ability to emasculate a man with her cunning. Theon had walked into Winterfell as any fool would. He had come to the North believing he could take it with little effort on his part from a woman who was of no threat to him.

And so Selene had let him. She let him approach her gates, walk through the castle doors and claim Winterfell as his. He had laughed when he believed he had won so easily, when he believed that the young beauty before him was handing him victory in fear of what would become of her. Men like Theon Greyjoy never expected a woman to fight back, not with any sense of guile.

And yet here he sat, prisoner now to the true Queen in the North and she stared down at him in disgust.

"You thought it would be easy," she scoffed. "You thought I would allow you to take my crown like some simpering little coward?" He did not reply, simply watched her pace as her shoes clicked and clicked against the stone floor before him. "I ought to kill you. Many of the men have encouraged me to slit your throat and not waste another moment allowing you to breathe the same air." Alys smiled as the woman spoke, the respect commanded in the queen's voice as it hung over the entire room had them all frozen in anticipation. "If you had betrayed House Baratheon, crossed my father's mercy and used it to your own personal gain as you have Eddard Stark's," Selene paused as she stepped closer to Theon so he would have to strain to see her standing above him. She took the dagger under his chin so he could not stare at the ground and she forced him to meet her eyes. "I would saw your head from your body while you screamed out for mercy," she described in a near whisper and almost everyone leaned forward to hear her speak. "With pleasure," she added and Alys fully believed Selene would take pleasure in killing the man who had betrayed her family. "However, as it is my husband you have betrayed, the King in the North, I will hold you here as my prisoner and let you face his wrath when he returns."

Selene grasped the man around his neck and squeezed his throat in her fingers. Her nails dug into his flesh and he coughed, struggled for her to release but Gyff held the man in place. Angus was at her side now, growling ferociously and had it not been for Jon Snow's hand on his direwolf's neck, Alys was sure that Ghost would be at the dog's side as well. They all watched, unsympathetic as he pleaded for air. And then all at once she let go.

"Count yourself lucky, Theon Turncloak that it is my husband's wrath you face. He is much more merciful than I," she spat as she then looked up at Gyff with an expression of stone. "Take him to the dungeons. He'll await his king there."

"And his men, My Queen?" he asked.

Selene glanced around the room, looking at the thirty Ironborn that littered the keep, on their knees and bound at the wrists as well. Twelve had been killed in what little fighting had taken place, the rest awaited her sentencing. She stepped forward towards a man whom Theon called Gelmarr the Grim. She glanced down at him, tilting his gruff chin up with her knife and tilted her head to the side. She then removed it, walking around so that she was facing his back and then looked up at at the guards who stood over their assigned prisoner.

"I have no use for pillagers and pirates," she ground out, nodding only once to the men in the room before placing her blade against the man's throat and slicing it for all to see.

And then in unison, her men followed the lead. For the first time since their arrival, the Stark bannermen looked pleased to follow one of her orders as the prisoners fell one by one at their feet. Selene had blood on her gown, but didn't seem to care as she stepped over the bodies to leave the room, Angus following. She only looked over her shoulder once to tell them to put their heads on pikes outside the castle as warning to whichever Ironborn planned to try for Winterfell next. And with that as her final instruction she left the room. Alys urged Ysmay and Aida to follow.

Alys allowed herself to smile then as she followed her queen, feeling a weight off of her shoulders as she realized the threat was now gone.

* * *

SELENE

She thought perhaps she had never slept so well in her life that night.

Her hands had been shaking when she retired to write her letter to Robb with the news. She had handed it over to the Maester, unable to keep them steady as she did so and Luwin took her hand in his and told her to calm her breathing. Until he'd said it she hadn't realized that her breaths were shallow and staggered. She had never felt this way before, she realized. Every time she glanced down at her fingers she swore she could see the faint stain of blood still lingering.

He'd eventually given her a drought, something to help her sleep, he'd told her and reluctantly she'd taken it if only to calm her shaking and rid herself of the sounds of the man's flesh against her dagger that played again and again in her mind.

The effect was nearly instant. She recalled little aside from laying her head down upon the pillow and Angus crawling up onto the bed beside her. She started to make a mental note to break her dog of the habit but before she could finish the thought she was asleep.

Darkness and dreamless sleep took over her then and she rested for the first time since she'd heard the Ironborn reached their shores. She didn't know if she could blame the drought or her exhaustion for not hearing the shouts outside her window until it was too late, until someone was rushing through her chamber door and shaking her awake. She opened her eyes, blurred from her grogginess and finally saw the figure in the darkness was the dark-haired Jon Snow.

"What is it?" she mumbled, trying to sit up but found him pulling her up impatiently. He had shut the door behind him, she noticed, and she was in her simple nightgown that was much too thin to hide anything from his view and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks as she pulled her sheets over her chest.

"No time for modesty, Selene," he whispered frantically and she tried to focus on his urgency rather than the fact that he was the first person to call her by her name since her departure from Robb. "There are men our at our gates, they are going to take the castle," he whispered and in rushed Ysmay alongside Alys and Aida.

"Men? Whose men? How many?"

"Too many this time. They will be through the gate in minutes," Jon replied.

Selene stood then, with Jon's aid, and she cursed Luwin under her breath for the strong sedative that was now causing her uselessness. Both Ysmay and Aida were trying to hide their tears but Selene could hear their quiet sobs in the corner of the room. Alys, however, wasted no time in grabbing her gown and Selene shook her head when she saw it.

"No, I need something plain. Aida, quickly take off your clothes," she insisted and Jon turned his back as Aida reluctantly complied. "Alys, dress her in something of mine, something she can ride in. Ysmay, go and find Lady Stark." The girl didn't move at first, shaking as she stood there and Selene paused her movements and walked quickly to the girl's side, placing her hands on either side of Ysmay's face. "Do as I have told you. I will not allow these men to harm you, do you understand? But you must do as we have planned. Now go!" she whispered harshly and the girl nodded, wiping her tears and Jon started towards the door as well. "No, I need your help. Come, hand me that wool dress. Yes, that one. Now help me do up the ties." Jon looked aghast at her request and she rolled her eyes. "No time for modesty, Jon," she told him, mocking his previous words and he did not falter a second time as she stepped into the wool gown, keeping her shift on as he then tied up the simple threads in the back of it.

Selene did not bother to wait for Alys to finish with Aida before she and Jon fled the room, Angus on her heels. She could trust Alys to take Aida where she needed her to go and she and Jon ran down the corridor to find Ysmay with the Stark children and Benjen standing with Lady Catelyn and Brienne. Rickon ran to her side and she knelt down at his level to see his eyes filled with tears.

"Is something bad going to happen, Selene?" he asked in a small whisper and she shook her head, feeling something unfamiliar swelling in her throat.

"No of course not, sweet one," she assured and she could not stop him as he flung his arms around her neck.

"Don't make me leave. I'll stay here by your side to protect you," he insisted and was unable to hide her smile as she wrapped her arms around him as well, pulling him into a hug, something Selene was no expert at but it seemed to please him well enough as he squeezed her back.

"I have your Uncle Benjen to protect me, dear," she explained. "I need you to stay with your mother. She needs protection too, doesn't she?" she asked and Rickon looked at her with an expression that told her it was something he hadn't thought of before. "You'll protect your mother won't you?" He looked conflicted. She sighed, leaning in close and feeling a desperation to get him from this place as she whispered in his ear. "I have a secret that I need you to take to Robb. It's a very important mission. Only you can do it." Rickon looked at her, his blue eyes searching hers in confusion. "Can you deliver this message?" He nodded quickly. "Good," she grinned. "Now, you tell your brother that you are going to be an uncle," she explained and Rickon's eyes widened. She took his small hand and placed it against the small lump in her belly and he smiled. "Can you bear that secret for me? No one can know, not even your mother, understand?" she encouraged and this time his nod was eager. "Good, now go. Follow your mother and protect her."

Rickon paused, kissing her cheek and then squeezing her one last time before he let go and took hold of his mother's hand. Selene stepped towards Catelyn whose eyes were warm behind the panic that danced in them. She placed a hand on Selene's shoulder and leaned in, kissing her cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered.

For Selene, it was enough, and while the woman's touch was of slight discomfort on Selene's skin, she placed her hand over the older woman's and nodded once before removing it and goading them forward. Arya followed as did Hodor who was carrying Bran. Jon was to follow behind them but he stopped at her side and took her hand despite her flinch as he did so.

"Go!" she begged.

"Please come," he insisted and there was an ache in his voice, a duty that she had heard in Robb's voice the first night they met. Honor, she told herself. It was against everything this man knew to leave her behind but she was asking him to do it anyways.

"Protect them with your life Jon Snow," she replied, ignoring his plea. "And when you get to Riverrun," she reached into his satchel and held up a piece of parchment. "Give this to Robb."

"Selene," he begged and she shook her head.

"Don't look back."

At that he nodded and as he left her there he did not look back once.

Ysmay was still crying when Selene pulled the girl to her chest and she hugged her the best that she could. She whispered words of encouragement, promises that she would avenge her father's death and that she would be safe. Aida, too, was crying now as she stepped towards Selene. She could only remind the girl that this was what they'd anticipated, that it was Aida's responsibility now to be Selene and to keep their secret. Aida nodded and leaned towards Selene, kissing her cheek and then stepping off to the side.

Last was Gyff. Large brutish Gyff who was never much for words. But for all of his usual silence, he spoke then.

"My Queen, if it pleases you I will go, but I would rather stay and see to your safety myself," he told her.

"Gyff," she replied. "You have served me all my life. Serve me now and take care of Aida. Care for her as you have me."

"If that is your wish, Your Grace."

"It is. They will need your sword by their side. Keep them safe. All of them." He nodded then, taking her hand in his and placed it to his lips. He nodded curtly one time and then she was left with Alys and Benjen and an empty feeling growing inside of her.

Shouts were growing out in the courtyard and she knew that what little men she had left would be quickly disposed of before long. There were banners surrounding the castle walls and Selene frowned when she was able to make out one of them as a torch rode next to it.

"Bolton?" she questioned, glancing back up at Benjen who also wore a frown of confusion. "Robb said Roose Bolton was coming to our aid. This is a betrayal."

"It's not just Bolton banners out there," Benjen corrected. "Did House Frey pay fealty to Robb at the crowning?" he asked and her eyes closed as she swallowed hard.

"He was supposed to marry his daughter," she whispered. "Do you think this is Walder Frey's revenge?"

"Far too many Bolton's to be a Frey-led rebellion," he disagreed. "Though it could be revenge which has led him to offer his support of a Bolton uprising."

"The Bolton bastard has nearly all of my men," replied Selene. "If they are not dead already he will use them as leverage."

"Your worry now, Selene, is not those men. They are not your men any longer. Now your goal is to ensure no one knows who you are," he reminded her. Selene nodded. He was right.

"Will Bolton recognize you?" she asked him and he shook his head.

"Doubtful," was his reply. "I haven't seen Roose Bolton since I was a boy. Even so, I will stay out of sight as much as I can."

"You are too much Stark not to be noticed by someone," she observed, glancing over his dark hair and ice colored eyes. She thought then, if he was aged just slightly, he might look like his brother, Ned.

"Come, I will take you below to the servant's quarters," Alys suggested then.

"If you need to find me, go to the crypts, do you know your way down?" he asked and she nodded. "You're a Northerner now, a low born maid. Don't speak to anyone unless directed. I fear if they take notice of you, they may think they can be free to use you to their whim."

Selene glanced down at her stomach and felt her heart racing, no it was pounding, against her chest. Benjen started towards the stairwell but she grabbed his arm, gripping it hard. He turned to face her, eyeing where her fingers were gripping his forearm and his brow furrowed deeply.

"There is something you must know," she said carefully.

"My Lady-" Alys warned but Selene ignored her.

"We have little time, Selene. You must get below before the men break through our walls," he directed, pulling her hand from his arm but she stopped him again.

"Please, I realize now the folly of my secrecy. I cannot allow Luwin and Alys to be the only ones aware of my condition," she whispered speedily. Benjen did not seem to understand at first as he let his eyes travel over her figure. "Benjen, I am with child," she admitted. "I carry the King's heir." His eyes widened.

"You stayed behind, knowing you were risking not only your life but your child's as well?"

"If I allow Winterfell to fall, I leave behind nothing for Robb or his child. I cannot lose the North."

"I am sorry to be the bearer of this news, Your Grace, but the North is already lost!" he nearly shouted, his tone bitter. "Stupid child!" he muttered beneath his breath but both knew it had been loud enough for her to hear as he'd meant it. "I am taking you away from here."

"You may think me stupid," she hissed, fighting as he tried to pull her away. "But if I am here, I can rally the men. I can reverse this happenstance," she pleaded. "If you take me away these men will have _nothing_ and _no one _to fight for. And no one to help them escape."

"Selene do you know what these _dogs_ out there do to women? Do you know what the lowborn women of Winterfell will be subjected to once Roose sits on your throne?" She looked away, ashamed. She'd considered what would happen but she knew she was simply too stubborn to consider it an option. "If those men rape you, your son's legitimacy will be called into question all of his life."

"I will not leave," she said forcefully. His gaze hardened.

"You may be Queen in the North, My Lady," he muttered, taking her arm. Angus growled as she jerked her arm to no avail. "But I am a brother of the Night's Watch. I serve no Kings nor Queens."

And with that, and what seemed like Alys' support, Benjen dragged Selene down the stares, covering her mouth when she threatened to scream and hauled her out to the passage that would take them beneath the walls of Winterfell and out into the Wolfswood where they could run.

Selene could hear the shouts of the Bolton and Frey soldiers ramming down the gate's heavy walls. She couldn't leave, she wanted to shout. But as they descended the steps into the darkness of the crypts, they heard footsteps coming up them and they had no time to hide as they came upon three men with swords in their hands.

Perhaps Benjen could take them, she thought. Perhaps she could slit their throats if she had to. Her stomach twisted at the idea and again she thought she could hear the sound of blade against flesh, loud in her mind. Angus' growl was ferocious now and he stepped between his mistress and the blade not inches from her chest.

"What do we have here?" a gruff accent taunted and Selene felt her heart drop. "What's a man of the Night's Watch doing this far from the Wall?"

"We just-" Alys started but the man slapped her hard across the face. Selene flinched.

"Shut your mouth, whore," the man spat. "I was talking to the man in black." They grabbed his sword from his hilt and looked at the fine quality and laughed. "Answer me!" the man shouted.

"I heard about the Ironborn," he answered and suddenly Benjen's accent sounded much thicker than before. "I came south when I heard, I was worried for my wife," he answered, lifting Selene off the ground and holding her by his side. "She's with child, you understand. I was worried for my son."

"Must have done something to abandon the bitch in the first place," the man spat. "They'll have your head for deserting the Watch." He glanced at Selene, reaching towards her and pressed his hand on her face, caressing the flesh of her cheek. "Even so, she does have a fine face, doesn't she Jem?" he asked, turning to his friend who then licked his lips.

"Better off not touching that one," Alys spoke then and Selene could feel her heart racing.

"Oh yeah, and why's that?" the man asked and she turned Selene around, pushing her roughly against the stone wall as she removed her cloak. She tried to look back but Alys was quick and deliberate and somehow, Selene knew it was better to trust the girl than to question her. She then felt a ripping and the cold air was exposed to her bare back.

"She's riddled with disease. Here, look at her flesh. They say greyscale never fully goes away," Alys told them, her accent distorted in some Northern fashion and each of the men took a step back. "Contagious if you aren't careful."

"Seven Hells," the man spat. "Get the bitch away from me."

"Well we can't just leave them here. The man's a deserter," another man spoke up. "Suppose we tie her up and bring her back to the keep. She'll be fine in the dungeons." Selene decided the man sounded like an imbecile.

"You know," Alys said then and her voice was low and seductive. Selene had rarely heard the sound of it in such a manner. "Perhaps you could forget you saw us. Forget that we were even here. Once he finds his way back to the Wall they can find justice in his crime if they wish it. And meanwhile, my sister can give birth to her son without threat of the Ironborn."

"Ain't no more Ironborn here," another man laughed. "Now that the Bolton's have Winterfell, Victarion Greyjoy would be mad to send any more of his men up past the Neck. Especially now that the old Kraken is dead. I give it a few days at most before he's sailing back to the Iron Isles."

Selene felt Benjen's hand wrap around the dagger hidden on her waist. She shifted slightly to make his movements less obvious. She had a small knife in her boot. If Benjen could get to them before they pulled their swords, she could get to one, maybe two if she was quick. And Alys always carried a knife in her garter. She could handle her own.

"They won't keep Moat Cailin for much longer now," the larger man scoffed. "We've taken their prize. Bolton owns the North now. And that Stark traitor won't have the Trident much longer if we have anything to say about it."

It was swift, Benjen's attack and before Selene knew what was happening she was lunging too, plunging her dagger into the side of one of the Frey's neck and then shoved him to the ground, pulling his sword and hauled it with all of her strength as she shoved it through another man's back. She breathed heavy then, turning to see the dead bodies that now littered the ground and both Benjen and Alys held bloody knives in their gloved hands.

This time she didn't feel sick.

"Come, let us go. If we carry on south I can get us through the Neck. If we ride hard, we may be able to catch up with the others," Benjen told them, wiping the dagger on the inside of his cloak. She shook her head.

"No," she whispered and he frowned.

"I will not argue again, girl. I am taking you to Riverrun where you can be out of my charge and in the hands of someone who doesn't have a death wish."

"No I will not go to Riverrun," she repeated. "But I _will_ leave Winterfell. You can follow me if you wish."

"My Lady," Alys interrupted, a furrow in her brow. "Where will you go if not Riverrun? You'll be safe there."

"Didn't you hear them babbling on?" she asked, wiping the blood from her cheeks. "Balon Greyjoy is dead. Do you know what that means?" Neither answered. "It means that once news spreads, the Ironborn will be in chaos. Euron will call the kingsmoot to crown it's new king. This means, I can use Victarion Greyjoy to our advantage."

"Victarion Greyjoy is a madman," Benjen cautioned.

"No, Balon was mad, Euron is surely mad. But everyone knows of all the Greyjoys, Victarion can be reasoned with," she contradicted.

"And _you're_ going to reason with him?" he scoffed. "Hells, you really do have a death wish!"

"I can get him what he wants most, the throne of the Ironborn."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Alys asked, just as skeptical.

"I'll need your help. Both of you," she told them. "There is something I need from the dungeons."

"What could you possibly need?" she asked.

"Theon Greyjoy."

* * *

****A/N: Thank you all for your patience with my slower updates lately. This chapter ended up in a different direction than I intended but I liked it better than my original intention for it. Thank you to all of you who reviewed, followed, and favorited - and read of course. You have all inspired this story to carry on and for that I am grateful. If you have a few moments, please drop me a note to let me know what you thought! Sorry I haven't gotten to PMing all of you. I haven't forgotten! :)  
-Lola****


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

**SELENE**

She had lost Winterfell.

She could not erase the reality from her thoughts. She had been betrayed by her own allies, her own bannermen. By the time they'd arrived it had been too late to push them back. She had given most of her men to Ramsay to fight and he had taken them gladly and used that vulnerability against her. And now the North was under his fist unless she could succeed in prying it from his clutches.

It took a week before she could get into the dungeons of the fortress. It had seemed like the longest week of her life, hidden away in the darkness of the crypts of Winterfell. She felt a deep dread in her, surrounded my so much death. It reminded her of a time she'd prefer to forget, a time when corpses littered the keep of Storm's End and faceless men haunted her dreams.

Alys had ultimately been the one to allow for Selene's access to her men locked up like dogs in cages. From what she'd been told however, Ramsay's dogs were treated better than men. She had worn an old cloak, dark, as she slipped out into the courtyard in the cover of darkness. She kept the hood up over her head and slipped through the shadows until she was able to reach the dungeons with only Benjen and Angus by her side.

The guards had been distracted, just as Alys had told her. Bellies were full of wine as they continued to indulge in their victory and Selene fumed at their waste of Winterfell's supplies. She cursed herself, momentarily, for having stocked up so much in anticipation of a siege. Had she not been so blindsided by a Northern uprising she might have been able to hold off Ramsay's men for several months or more until the snow became too treacherous for his men to continue on. She would have won in a fair fight she thought. But for now she had to even the playing field.

It had been four days since she'd sent riders out to deliver a plea to every corner of the North she could think of. The Ironborn were no longer their chief concern. Cley Cerwyn had been the first to respond, conceding a strategic loss to the Ironborn in order to abide her command. _Give them Moat Cailin_, she'd instructed, and he'd done just that. He would be days away from Winterfell now, on the heels of Roose Bolton who had yet to show his face. If she could draw out the Boltons from the outside, then she could destroy them from within.

A horrible smell hung in the air as she stepped quietly through the corridors, stopping at every corner as Benjen had instructed. He waited near the entrance, keeping watch and would dispose of any threats if need be. Alys entertained what few guards she could, leaving Selene with a key and what courage she could muster to complete the job on her own. Angus was her only companion, still refusing to leave her side since their encounter with the Frey men.

There was a large cell at the end of the corridor, furthest from the entrance and therefore harder to get to without notice had the guards been sober enough to be keep to their posts. She saw Luwin first and sighed in relief when his warm eyes met her own. Footsteps paused her own as she hid behind a stone column just close enough that she could get close to the cell without being seen. When they passed, she crouched down to where the maester was sitting, holding his bruised head up against the wall, his eyes wide in surprise. No one else seemed to notice her at all until she spoke.

"You certainly are of very little use to your queen down here," she announced, her voice hushed but still several of them turned to see her as she pulled down her hood just enough that they would recognize her.

"Your Grace," Luwin said in relief. "We had hoped you had escaped with the others," he told her and she reached her hand through the bars and patted his once in an attempt of comfort. It ended up much more awkward than she had intended.

"I tried," she explained. "I had hoped I could infiltrate the Bolton ranks from the inside, but they have more men than I had originally expected. Our King sent an entire army to eradicate the Ironborn and that entire army has turned on us. We have no choice but to wait now until the rest of the Northerners can return to take it back."

"The North is lost with the Bolton's at the helm," Lord Manderly spat and Selene noticed he was nursing a very serious wound in his shoulder. The maester would have little supplies here and would have therefore done all he could in order to keep the man from bleeding out. Still he cringed as he shifted. "Do we know if Roose has arrived?" he asked.

"As far as I know he has not. The Bastard is readying the castle for his arrival and in the meantime I have arranged for a short window allowing for your escape," she whispered.

"And what good would it do?" one of the men spat and Selene's jaw clenched. "You led us into this bloody mess and the moment we leave we surrender everything to this uprising. We allow them to keep Winterfell and we've lost the North."

"He's right," Lord Manderly reluctantly agreed. "Even if we do escape, the King will not be able to make it to Winterfell before Roose has everyone bowing to his claim. The Ironborn still hold the Neck. It will be months before King Robb can cut them down and by then it will be winter. Even his large army can't lay siege against Winterfell then. You've seen to that with all of our supplies."

_Winter is Coming_ the Starks always said. This time the words had real weight.

"Then we need to remove that threat and allow our King clear path to take his throne. If Robb's army can make it to Winterfell before the snow gets too thick, he will be able to take back what is his."

"That will take months!" one of the men shouted.

"Not if we can restore proper order long enough for the army to return to the North," she answered.

"Another one of your plans?" Ser Rodrick scoffed. "It's your plan that got us in this mess in the first place. How can we be sure this wasn't what you wanted all along? Put the North in a disorder long enough that you can take your crown?"

"I did not hear your objections when I had those filthy Ironborn executed at my feet," she hissed, her anger rising. "You still see me as your enemy but when I had the opportunity to escape, I came back for all of you. That should be proof enough of my loyalties. A chance to do our part and ensure that we do not go down without a fight." The men did not speak at first. They simply stared at her. "Very well, if you will not fight for me," she paused, pulling back her cloak. "Then fight for your King's heir."

Eyes widened then as they stared down at the protruding bump that had grown steadily over the last few weeks. It was still small, indeed, but it was noticeable enough that her words did not seem false. Each man stood then, some of them struggling and then approached the bars of their iron cage.

"And how, My Queen, do you plan to get us out of our prison?" Lord Manderly asked and she couldn't help but grin as she pulled the key from her cloak pocket.

"Does this answer your question?"

* * *

**ROBB**

He was a prisoner in this fortress. Riverrun had become the place he loathed most. He was a mere week's ride from his home, from his Queen. And yet because of the Ironborn, because of the Boltons and the Freys, he was stuck below the Neck, unable to do anything but wait for his kingdom to be stolen from him.

"I cannot sit here any longer," Robb wanted to shout, though his voice remained a cool rumble. "We should march on the Twins and have Walder Frey's head for his betrayal."

"A betrayal which we ought to have seen coming," the Greatjon admitted. "We all knew there would be repercussions when you married Her Grace, the Queen. If Stannis Baratheon had taken King's Landing as planned, perhaps his loyalties would have been solidified."

"Regardless of his reasoning, Walder Frey has turned his back on his king and what's worse, he's serving a Bolton as his commander," Lord Blackwood announced. "I agree with the King. We should march on the Twins before they have time to send any more forces to Winterfell."

"Have you received word, Your Grace?" Wendel Manderly asked. "From the Queen?"

"None," Robb said, swallowing a knot in his throat. "The last letter I received was after her victory over the Ironborn party lead by Theon Greyjoy. She informed me that she has kept him prisoner while the others have been-" he paused. "-disposed of."

"My father said she killed the devils herself," Wendel spoke. "He wrote that she slit a man's throat in front of Theon the Traitor and the rest of the nobles in attendance at Winterfell."

"She executed the Iron rebels as any of us would have," Robb replied, staring down at the wrinkled parchment that was Selene's tense letter after her victory at Winterfell. He had not told the council that after reading her letter he suspected she had never killed a man before. She tried to keep the composure in her words, but it was her writing, the words she used that lead Robb to believe that it had been a difficult act to perform. Whatever her feelings on the matter, he couldn't help but feel proud of her.

"I am not confident in Ramsay Snow's words," Robb announced then. "If he had truly captured my family as well as Selene, then one of them would have found a way to get word out. Selene is skilled in inscription as is Maester Luwin. Before this they'd devised a plan to get letters out if needed. Selene assured me that if Winterfell came under attack that my family would have no trouble in escaping."

"They came in the middle of the night, My King," Lady Mormont reminded him. "She would have been ambushed, with so little guard that there would be no fight at all."

Robb did not want to entertain the idea that Selene might have failed, that Ramsay's letter was full of truths. He knew she wanted to stay behind and find a way to get back the castle, but she was smart enough - though stubborn - to know when a battle was lost. She would not risk herself nor would she risk his family if the danger posed too big of a threat.

Robb decided that instead of indulging the possibility of his family as captives, that focusing on the Frey threat would keep their morale from sinking.

"How many men, Greatjon, do we need to take the Twins?" he asked and the council seemed to perk slightly.

"Well, there is one lad still loyal to you, Your Grace, and that's Cley Cerwyn," the man informed. "I received word from the boy just yesterday saying that there were at least a thousand Freys marching up towards Winterfell on his tail."

"How did they make it through the Ironborn hold at Moat Cailin?" Robb asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"There was a weaker flank in the East," the Greatjon replied. "With a thousand experienced fighters, I'm sure it wasn't much of a fight. We could do the same if we could rein in the Freys."

"There is no reining in the Freys," Robb spat. "We need the Twins."

"We may have enough forces here at Riverrun to take the keep but it will take at least a month, if not more, to mount a successful siege. Are you not concerned that it is too much time? If the Lannisters come-"

"I still cannot confirm the legitimacy of that letter, Lord Umber," Robb interrupted. "Until I know who Hawling Kross is, I cannot take his word that the Lannisters are preparing to move west. We are still protected in that we hold their keeps as leverage and Lord Karstark will hold Harrenhal. Our scouts will inform us should we need to take any further precautions."

"And you still refuse to entertain the idea of all that gold you have in your charge at Casterly Rock?" the Blackfish questioned and Robb shook his head.

"I will not use Lannister gold to buy the loyalties of my bannermen," Robb snapped.

"The plunder of Casterly Rock is yours," the Blackfish reminded him. Robb did not need reminding. "The spoils of war are your right and in this case could save the North."

"Bolton did not betray me for gold," Robb spat. "He wanted the North. And with Tywin backing him, he has taken it. And so long as Roose holds Winterfell with the Freys blocking our return, Tywin is free to march West for his land."

"What of your Aunt in the Vale?" Lady Mormont asked. "Is she still so unwilling to back your claim?"

Robb hadn't written his aunt Lysa since before his campaign had taken off in the Riverlands. She had refused to aid him then and would likely still refuse him now. But if he could could convince her that it would be in their mutual interest to band together, then perhaps she might agree. His mother was better at this sort of thing. He'd never been overly fond of his aunt in the few times that he'd met her. But Robb wasn't overly fond of war either. He wanted to end this and he wanted to ensure the safety of his family and his home.

"I will write to her again," he told them as he stood. Everyone else stood as he did, bowing their heads in brief consideration as their king left the room.

Grey Wind, who had been happily warming himself by the fire, followed swiftly, his ears perking as he trotted by his master's side. Robb placed his hands in the direwolf's fur, letting his fingers tangle in the coarseness of it as he tried to keep his mind from wandering to the dangerous darkness that hung deep within him.

But still Robb felt a heavy weight still lingering as he walked through the corridors, a few guards not far behind. He didn't know exactly where he was going, he decided, but his mind was racing with worries he could not erase. Each step to reach his family was an obstacle of even greater proportions than the previous. He'd have to lay siege to the Twins and succeed in removing Walder Frey from power simply to have the opportunity to eradicate the Ironborn that severed him from the North. And then he'd face Victarion Greyjoy and the Iron Fleet just to reach Roose Bolton's army. And by then would he be too late? He knew what Roose did to prisoners. Would he arrive in time to find Selene's flayed corpse hanging from the gates of Winterfell?

The thought caused him to shudder, an involuntary lurch of his stomach nearly causing him to gag. He staggered slightly, stepping towards the stone wall to keep his balance. He held up his hand to keep the guards from rushing towards him. "I'm fine," he insisted as he closed his eyes, placing his head against the cold stone and he breathed. Grey Wind whimpered.

He remembered Selene's last letter. How she had told him to stay strong, and how he had read them thinking that perhaps she had written them more to convince herself - not him. She needed him to believe in her, to trust that she would do what was needed, to protect his home. No - _their_ home. She had said that once, perhaps a slip of the mind as she wrote the words in one of her letters. But it had warmed him all the same.

Robb heard voices then, shouts coming from the courtyard and his guards rushed towards the windows. But Grey Wind perked, and Robb followed as the direwolf rushed down the corridors and then the stairwells that lead out into the courtyard. Robb found the guards were pointing out into the dreary morning and Grey Wind's barks caused something in Robb to stir.

The courtyard was bustling, rushing towards the gates and towers. There was a light flurry in the air though the ground was still too warm for the snow to stick. His climb to the top of the watch tower seemed to take forever as he stepped and grabbed, something fluttering in his chest as Grey Wind paced restlessly below. When he finally reached the top he walked towards the tower bridge where his guards were bunched together, straining their eyes out into the distance where riders were spotted.

"It's the Queen," one of the guards whispered in disbelief and Robb felt his heart leap as he stared out into the flurry where a large group of riders entered the camps. Robb could not see their faces but he could spot his mother's auburn hair, Bran and Rickon's small stature as they sat on horseback together. And then, in the distance he saw Gyff, the large man unmistakeable as he rode side by side next to his Queen. Her dark hair blew violently around her and the men cheered as she rode through the camps towards the castle gates.

Robb was quick to instruct the gates to be opened and rushed back down, fueled by joy as he awaited their return. He could hear their laughter growing as the gates were hauled open. Robb turned quickly to where they grew, rushing back to the courtyard where the riders were now dismounting their horses. There, standing with guards surrounding, heavy cloaks and furs wrapped around them, was Jon, and then Rickon and Bran, and his mother. Arya's hair was cropped short but she still wore a mischievous smile that he recognized well.

"Mother," he whispered in disbelief, his pace quickening to a run as he engulfed her in his arms.

When he stepped back she was looking back at him with a warm smile and tears lining her eyes. She touched his face and Robb realized then that he'd been longing for such comfort of a familiar touch. He just hadn't realized how badly he needed it until now. Rickon jumped up onto him, his arms around Robb's neck. Robb struggled only for a moment to catch him, pulling the boy up into his arms who was wearing an eager smile. Arya laughed alongside Bran who was being carried by Hodor, the great oaf who looked thrilled just to be off of his horse.

And then there was Jon, his brother and best friend. Though Rickon refused to detach himself from Robb's neck, he still allowed his two older brothers to reunite with a hug full of joy. Both Jon and Robb laughed as they did so, more in disbelief than anything. It seemed like it had been ages since they'd been in the same room and now he was here, despite Jon's new life and new family.

But as overwhelmed with joy as Robb was, he could not help his hurried glance towards the horse where the raven-haired woman was now dismounting. And he rushed towards her, finding himself willing her to look in his direction so he could see her eyes, so he could memorize her features once more. But as her eyes caught his, his quickened pace came to a sudden halt.

"Aida," he whispered, his voice strained. Aida lowered her eyes, seeing Robb's disappointment and confusion welled up in his eyes.

Gyff stood nearby and Robb's realization was like a heavy kick to the gut. The sight of her stung at him, as he realized then what he had never took much note of before. Aida wore one of Selene's gowns, a practical riding dress with little adornment other than an antler clasp on her cloak. But as she stood, he thought if he stared at her long enough she might be Selene, as similar as they looked.

He could not tell if the revelation made him hopeful or if it only caused more dread. If Ramsay believed the Queen had escaped, then they had no hostages that they knew of. Ramsay's letter was indeed a ruse. But Robb would not bother in correcting the traitor. So long as Ramsay believed his lie gave him power, Robb held the upper hand.

Robb then looked to Gyff before asking, "What happened?" The man bowed his head respectfully. Robb tried not to remember that the only time he'd seen Gyff was at Selene's side.

"The Queen, spent the last month preparing Winterfell for siege. Once the Greyjoy boy was taken prisoner, she was confident that the rest of the Iron rebels would be subdued in time. But the Bolton traitors came in the night and what looked like a victorious return became an irrepressible mutiny. We did not have enough forces to hold them back and we had so little notice that they were there to attack. The Queen did what she thought was best and sent the family from the fortress before the attackers could break through the gates. She stayed behind in hopes of aiding Winterfell in whatever way she could."

Robb's heart sank. It wasn't what he wanted to hear, although he still felt a surge of pride in Selene's dedication to her promise. She did not want to admit defeat and Robb, while disappointed, could not say he didn't understand that feeling.

"We could not send word, you understand?" Jon told him, his hand on Robb's shoulder. "She told me no ravens could be involved for fear that we would be found out. We received aid in White Harbor where one of Manderly's captains was instructed to usher us through the Bite on a fishing vessel." Robb nodded.

"And Uncle Benjen?" he asked.

"Stayed behind to aid Selene," Jon answered. "His opinion of your wife, Robb, is not much different than my own," he explained with a slight grin. "I am fairly certain your Baratheon bride might be the most irrational woman we've ever come across," he paused as Robb felt a lightness grown in his chest, smiling as well. "But we both agree she is also the bravest, by far."

"Indeed she is," Robb laughed and felt a tug at his shoulder. He looked down to Rickon whose eagerness was nearing its end. "What is it?" he asked, amused with his brother's impatience.

"Selene gave me a message for you before we left. And she said I had to keep it a secret until I saw you," he whispered though his voice was much too loud. Everyone giggled, pretending they did not hear him. "She said it was very important and that only I could do it," he added and Robb chuckled, his heart lightening at the boy's excitement and what seemed like adoration for Selene.

"Rickon was Selene's biggest helper at Winterfell, weren't you my love?" his mother asked the boy who nodded.

"Alright then," Robb indulged. "Let us hear this message."

"She asked that I tell you, that soon I will be an uncle. I suppose that means Bran as well," he said with a wide grin and Robb's smile faltered.

"What?" he asked, laughing slightly as he tried to interpret the boy's words. "I don't understand."

"It's true," he nodded quickly. "She even let me feel her belly. I don't know all that much about babies. But even so, I think it will be a boy!"

Robb looked quickly to his mother who looked just as surprised as he did. Robb put Rickon on the ground and looked up at the faces of his family in front of him. This seemed news to all of them, Jon included. It was not until his eyes landed upon to pairs of lowered eyes that he realized it was not in fact a secret to everyone.

"Aida," he whispered and the girl looked up at him nervously. "Is what my brother says true?"

Aida curtsied as he approached and nodded though her eyes did not meet his own. Whatever brief image of Selene he'd seen in Aida quickly disappeared with her meekness. His Selene's gaze would meet his. His Selene did not falter.

"It is, Your Grace," she answered. "It is only recently that we discovered the Queen's condition. But the Maester confirmed it. We were meant to keep it secret, the three of us as well as Maester Luwin," she insisted, motioning to Ysmay who nodded in confirmation. "She wanted to ensure no one would use the information against either one of you."

"But the Queen _is_ with child?" he asked again and she nodded.

"Yes, Majesty."

Robb's anger was overshadowed briefly by the joy he felt pulsing through him.

"Robb, if I'd known-" Jon started in apology. "I'd have tossed her over my shoulder no matter how much she refused."

"I don't know that you would have succeeded, brother," Robb said lightly. "Do not fret over it. My wife knows little else but getting her way."

"But Robb," his mother pleaded. "If she is with child then both of them are in danger."

"So long as the North believes Selene escaped Winterfell, she will be safe from most harm. Uncle Benjen will protect her until she had get herself to safety," Robb assured, his mind racing. "Let us just pray now that whatever her plan is next that she does not do something foolish."

* * *

**SELENE**

Upon reaching the courtyard, late into the darkest part of the night, Selene realized that perhaps Benjen Stark had been right about her. She was indeed a foolish child, she thought. She had put all of these men at risk for the sake of a plan that could very well make things worse in the end.

But there was no turning back now, they had reminded her.

There in the darkness they stood, faced by dogs who bore their teeth with ferocious growls. And between them stood a young man, eyes cold and a twisted smirk as he stared at them, preparing to give his order to attack.

Selene swallowed the heavy lump in her throat, barely able to comprehend the bastard's words as he scoffed and chuckled. She thought of Shireen then, of her sweet, naive little sister who thought there was nothing in the world Selene had found fearsome. But in fact Selene feared much. Selene feared for her family, feared that perhaps they were dead, somewhere and she would never hear their voices again. She feared her husband's disappointment, her soldier's demise. She feared now for the life of a child she was a stranger to, a child who was barely developed past a small bump beneath her cloak, a child that should she fail she would never lay eyes upon. And it was that though she feared the most.

And right now she feared this man, this crazed monster who stood with his half-starved beasts.

"You thought you could trick me?" she heard when his voice became clear. "Winterfell belongs to the Boltons now. The _North_ belongs to the Boltons."

"Bastards do not rule," Ser Rodrick spat and Ramsay almost let loose one of his dogs, but opted for a scoff instead.

"Is it not your King's entire claim which rests on the fact that a _bastard_ sits on the Iron Throne?"

"An Iron Throne which belongs to the rightful heir, Selene Baratheon!" Manderly sneered and Selene could not help but feel a surge of pride rise within her.

"Your Queen, who abandoned you?" Ramsay questioned but her men did not falter. "You want to get rid of me but who will care for Winterfell in my absence? You don't have an army big enough to defeat my father, no matter how many soldiers you scrounge from the far corners of the Northern keeps."

"No," she could not help but hiss. "But we have enough supplies to survive a siege until Winter. Even your father's army cannot fight waist deep in snow."

Ramsay looked away from the men surrounding her and Alys, glanced towards her and tilted his head slightly. Selene still wore a plain dress which was now sullied from the blood spilled from their fight to escape. Her hair was tousled, her face covered in filth and from the expression on the bastard's face he was more concerned with her body than her identity. Then, almost as if he'd never taken notice of her at all, he glanced away from her, dismissing her altogether as he made eye contact with the Northern Lords at her side.

"You think you can take me prisoner? A hand full of you?" he barked out a laugh. "Have you ever seen what happens when you deprive a dog of food?" he asked and each of them shifted slightly.

It hadn't escaped Selene's notice that Ramsay's remaining guards were desperately trying to keep hold of the ropes around the dogs' necks. They were ravenous, snarling and foaming desperately from their mouths as they lunged forward and were then pulled back. They were the only obstacle between her and their escape. She needed Ramsay dead. She needed his head on a spike outside the gates of Winterfell before she could ensure it's safety. But this proved more difficult than she'd imagined.

Cley had been her saving grace. He had arrived just in time to draw back Roose's army from Winterfell's gates. It was the distraction she needed to ensure there were as few people inside the fortress walls before the plan was put into action. A handful of guards remained behind, preparing for the siege they thought would come soon after. But the strength Selene had been able to muster was enough to slowly and quietly take back control over most of the castle.

Soon Bolton men littered the dungeons in place of the Stark bannermen. Ramsay didn't even take notice of it until most of his men were either captured or killed. Now he was alone with his guard and his dogs. It was all that stood between her and a temporary victory, she realized. As it turned out, his hubris had rivaled her own.

"All I need do is release my hounds on you," he warned. "Before your bodies are devoured I can have the gates reopened."

It was true. For all the success her plan had reaped, she still could not achieve victory until Ramsay Snow was lifeless under her blade. His hounds posed a serious problem. Few of her soldiers had enough weapons to cut down all of the dogs before Ramsay reached the gates. Too many would be concerned about her safety.

"I admire your efforts, foolish as they were. You have loyalty which cannot be subdued. But your loyalties are misplaced. Robb Stark cannot rule the North. He may have won the Westerlands but nothing will stop the Lannisters from coming to claim their revenge. The Starks do not have the tact to take on an enemy like Lord Tywin."

"And you do, bastard?" Ser Rodrick scoffed. "You're only standing here because your traitor father took a deal to keep the Lannisters from retaliating. You think Roose Bolton will be King in the North?" He spat at Ramsay's feet. "So long as there is a Stark to rule the North I'll never bow to a Bolton. Nor any king aside from a King of Winter."

"As I said, I do find your loyalties gallant." Ramsay shrugged before loosening his hold on his hound's rope. "Die with your honor, just as Robb Stark will."

The dog came faster than any had expected as did the rest and Ramsay then calmly started towards the gates. The guards had their swords out, the hounds had their teeth and before Selene could fully register what was happening there was blood spilt on the white snow that was littering the ground. Shouts and metal, it was surrounding her as Benjen pulled her from the fighting, away from the hounds who were sinking their teeth into any flesh they could find. But she saw Ramsay's retreating back, his smirk wide as he glanced over his shoulder once and she felt the fury surge threw her, anew.

She would apologize later for how she hit Benjen square in the jaw with the pointiest part of her elbow. It was her only chance to escape his hold on her and he momentarily lost balance enough that she was able to wrench herself free. She wasn't sure she'd reach him in time as he approached the gate but as she ran the distance closed and her steps never faltered. One moment everything seemed slow, like a dream in which time was almost at a halt. The next, she had his arm around his neck and her blade against his flesh.

"My hounds will only cease at my command you know," he struggled to say and there was surprise in his eyes when he saw who had his life hanging by a thread. "You kill me and you and those men will still be devoured."

"Then call off your beasts," she hissed in his ear, turning him so they were facing the group.

A few of the dogs had been thwarted but most found themselves attached to one or more of her men as they sought out flesh. It wasn't until one leapt at Alys, tearing into her flesh that Selene felt herself begin to falter. Alys' screams filled her head and she wanted to run to her, to cut through the monsters Ramsay had created. But she couldn't. She stood still as stone as her friend was devoured by the throat until her eyes were lifeless in the snow.

Selene felt a lump wrench itself in her throat.

"I think I won't," he whispered, his lips against her ear and she only held the dagger tighter. She would have to kill him, hells she wanted to kill him. But even the thought of his blood spilling over her fingers made her stomach turn slightly. "You're scared, aren't you girl?" he asked her but she didn't respond. "It's alright, you know. Not everyone has the strength to do what needs to be done. You could kill me and escape," he offered, looking up at her but she did not meet his eyes. "Or if you let me free I'll ensure you're treated well when this mess is over."

Selene was ready to laugh, spit in his face and slit his throat then but she froze as her eyes took in the scene in front of her. Ramsay must have noticed her expression as well because his smirk fell as he glanced back towards the bloody mess that was taking place and suddenly the growls and tearing paused.

She could not believe her eyes when she spotted the first one, then a second and finally the third. Where they'd been hiding, she didn't know, but as they emerged, their legs low and their teeth exposed, a new rush of hope burst through her.

"Have you ever seen a direwolf, Snow?" she whispered then as she felt a surge of confidence returning. "They are interesting creatures. The most loyal beasts I've ever come across. Have you ever seen what they do when their masters are threatened?"

"There are no Starks here," he hissed and she laughed.

"That is where you are wrong," she spoke lowly, eyeing the direwolves as the growled ferociously and even Ramsay's hounds had trouble standing their ground for their kills. They outnumbered the wolves easily, but Summer, Shaggydog and Ghost had the advantage with their size and speed.

"Attack!" Ramsay urged his hounds though they did not move, many even stepped back in retreat. "Someone get this wench off of me," he said then.

Selene saw the bowman too late and before she could react more than a slight step, she felt the arrow pierce the flesh of her shoulder. She groaned but despite the agony she did not scream and she did not release Ramsay as the direwolves then began their attack. Ramsay wrenched himself just enough to look back at her in desperation.

"Who are you?" he asked and she smiled at the fear in his eyes. She leaned in, no longer fearing what would come next as she placed her lips next to his ear.

"I'm the Queen in the North, you fucking swine," she revealed and did not even allow him time to respond before plunging the knife in his heart. He did not struggle, only let his lips twitch upward at the realization as the color drained from his skin and the blood from his veins. And when the life left his eyes, she let him fall at her feet.

Victory was hers.

"Selene!" Benjen was shouting then, grabbing hold of her and glancing down at her shoulder where a short range arrow had pierced through her shoulder.

"Remove it," she urged him then taking hold of Luwin's shoulder as he approached as well, cradling his arm now covered in blood.

"My Queen had we not better do this inside, where we can better tend to the wound?" he asked and she shook her head.

"We have no time," she reminded him. "Our window is small and Cley and his men cannot hold Bolton forever."

"But, Selene-," Benjen warned and she glanced towards where Alys was lying in the snow. It was Alys who had made this possible and she would not allow her friend's death to be for naught.

"Do it, Benjen!" she commanded and he flinched slightly at her shout. He sighed, grabbing the dagger from her and urged her to open her mouth before placing it between her teeth.

"Hold her still," he commanded and it was Lord Manderly who held her to his chest.

Benjen first broke off the arrowhead, and the force of it bent the arrow deeper into her wound and she tried to pretend it didn't hurt as much as it did but she failed as she screamed through the dagger, biting down with such force that she thought it could shatter if it had been anything but steel. The arrow was pulled out soon after and Benjen then ripped the fabric from the hem of her dress and used it as a bandage to wrap around her shoulder.

"You can't travel like this," he explained.

"I must reach Barrowton before the Kingsmoot chooses its next Iron King," she insisted. "Victarion is the key to expelling the Ironborn."

"And your plan will get you killed before you can even set foot on his ship!" Benjen spat. "I have let you lead me into too many of your foolish plans Selene. I will not allow us both to be slaughtered because of you think you can outsmart Greyjoy."

"You're not going," she told him then, not allowing herself to cringe as she glanced up at him. She realized then he was much taller than she'd thought before.

"What?" he asked, his brow furrowing. "What in Seven Hells-"

"Robb once told me a story, of words his father used to tell him as a boy," she explained. "He said _There must always be a Stark in Winterfell_. And I don't plan on leaving it without one."

It was clear then that Benjen understood her words but he was not pleased. He displayed his displeasure in his frown and his exasperated sighs.

"Those are just words, you realize."

"So are '_Ours is the Fury_' but you should know I take them very seriously," she retorted. "You _will_ stay at Winterfell with Cley's army. You have plenty of supplies to last the siege and should I succeed, Robb's army will be free to return home."

"And who will travel with you? You have a child to think of, remember?"

"I do this _for_ my child," she hissed. "And I will be safe. Cley will go with me, as well as a few of the men we have here. Where I am going I need no army. I only need my wits."

Benjen stared down at her with an expression Selene had only seen once. She remembered it from her wedding feast, in the eyes of another Stark as she spoke of partnership and trust. Robb's eyes had been alight with fascination, just as Benjen Stark's were now.

"You are without doubt still a very foolish child," he laughed. "But I'll not say I'm not impressed by your bravery. Go, take the beasts with you," he said referring to the direwolves. "But if you go and get yourself captured. Don't call for my help, you hear me, girl?"

Selene did not feel comfortable enough around most people to show them any sort of affection even if she did feel it. But being so fresh from her victory mixed with Benjen's hearty chuckle, she did not stop herself as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his cheek.

"Take care of my castle, Stark," she instructed with a smile.

"And you, take care of my great nephew," he replied, glancing down at her belly and she nodded in appreciation before turning her back.

On the other side of the secret tunnel out of Winterfell was a mill. There, she had instructed Cley to meet her. With his help they would travel to Barrowton and convince Victarion to take her deal. She had told Benjen that much but had failed to mention the most important part of her plan. Once the deal was made, she and a handful of men would stay upon the Iron Victory.

The others would ride hard to Riverrun with Theon Greyjoy and a letter from Victarion calling for her ransom.

* * *

A/N: I had a lot of fun responses to the last chapter and hopefully some of the confusion was cleared up in this chapter. Selene is being a little reckless but she isn't being careless either. She is aware that she is putting her child in danger but she also feels at this point that she is fighting for them as well. She's not exactly familiar with being docile and waiting for someone to save her. She needs to take action and that's what she plans to do and plus...i kind of just wanted to do a scene with her and Victarion, so darn it I'm going to write it :) Oddly, things are getting pushed back a little more than I originally expected. But if you can bear with me for 2 more chapters...a reunion will finally be in the works. Thank you all so much for your patience and support! Lola


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**A/N: This next chapter is a little strange. Initially the first scene was meant to be in the last chapter, but I ultimately decided there was too much going on to add this as well. That being said, the first scene is not long after Selene takes back Winterfell and leaves it in Benjen's charge. The parts that follow after are roughly a month after. Sorry for the time jump.**

**Oh and a special thank you to those of you who reviewed the last chapter: CLTex, RHatch89, Eserechia, baronnis, bfireworks5, Northern'SLightS, Tarias, The King in White, AthenaB, AnnaComnena, fullhans1, lovinurbuks, lovinglauren99, Untilweburnout, andcasper6six6. I appreciate your feedback! Lola**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

**VICTARION GREYJOY**

The ship made noises in the night that often kept him awake, despite his ease with the sea. The _Iron Victory_ was an old ship, a ship that he had been built in his honor when he made the rank of captain. The sea was tossing that night, late past the midnight hour as the winds of winter descended upon the North.

Victarion despised the Northern climate and was ready to return to Pyke for the meeting of the Kingsmoot as soon as his men had properly secured their hold on Moat Cailin. His victory was celebrated with pillaging in the surrounding villages, and more than one of his men had tempted him with Northern women that had been captured across the coast.

But he simply had no taste for it, he'd decided. He was aging, he could feel it deep in his bones where he had once been vivacious and youthful. His attitude since arriving in the North had been so altered by the harshness of the land that he thought if he ever did see his home again he would perhaps never leave it. He would never tell his men this of course. An Iron King was not weak and did not long for the simple life on land.

Years of his life had been spent ravaging the seas and had been respected and feared because of the reputation he had garnered for himself. He was a warrior, he reminded himself. But now, his desire was not to raid, it was to rule. He wanted the crown. With Balon removed from power, it left their brother Euron free to return from his banishment. Victarion was not the only one who found news of his eldest brother's death more than a little suspicious when word of Euron's return reached his ears only days after Balon's death.

Euron would already be making his case to the Kingsmoot though Victarion knew there was an obstacle which would keep any decisions from being made in his absence. Aeron, their youngest brother, would not support Euron's claim and would without a doubt convince the Kingsmoot that the preferred candidate for the throne would be returning to press claim soon. That was when he'd received a letter from Aeron, telling his older brother that his support belonged to Victarion, over their brother Euron.

Of course Aeron's most ideal claimant would be Theon. But Theon was not heard from since his march on Winterfell. The boy was foolish, more Stark than Greyjoy and even Victarion had little faith in the boy's success at leading a simple raid, let alone the entirety of the Ironborn. He had laughed upon hearing that his nephew had blundered his attack on his former home,thwarted by the Queen in the North.

He was _not_ laughing, however, when he awoke to her blade precariously placed against his throat.

He'd been alarmed at the feel of it, waking him from his sleep and the icy steel was close enough to his flesh that he could feel the warmth of freshly spilt blood slowly seeping from where it was pressed. He felt murderous then, trying to turn on the man, one of Euron's assassins most likely come to solidify his claim by murdering another brother. However it was only a brief moment before he felt the dark plaited hair fall over his shoulder and the scent of her chilled flesh filled his nostrils.

He had been intrigued, impressed even, that a woman had managed to not only sneak aboard his ship, but also into his cabin chambers without being detected. Even more, he felt a smile perk upon his lips when she whispered her identity into his ear.

"Queen in the North," he mused. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked rubbing his neck when she finally did remove her dagger and sat with her feet propped in a chair near the corner of the small cabin. She could not have looked more indifferent.

"I heard whispers that Balon had finally met his demise. I had to hear for myself it's legitimacy from a source I could trust. Imagine my surprise, however, when I find the throne's newest contender still wasting time in the North when the Kingsmoot have already assembled," she replied boredly, twirling the dagger slowly in her hand. "Do you dispel the rumors?"

"Nay, I do not," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest, not bothering to press cloth to the small wound she'd inflicted upon his neck.

He was quite fond of that wound and the beauty who had inflicted it. Selene Baratheon was always rumored to be hideous, plagued by greyscale and inheriting the Florent plainness. But to his great pleasure he found her to be lovelier than any of the Northern filth that had been thrown at his feet. She was a woman of the sea and it was written well in her eyes.

"Then perhaps I am also right in that you desire his throne," she suggested and the dagger paused in her hand as she glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. "Suppose I were to give it to you."

This time it was he who laughed, a loud hearty chuckle that shook his chest as her words filled his ears. The child was bold, he'd give her that. But she knew his answer long before she'd given her offer and yet still she presented it. He found it curious, and despite his instinct to kick her off his ship he decided that her determination was enough to ensnare his attention, if only a little longer.

"I do not need to tell you that I do not take gifts from anyone. If there is something I want, I take it. Haven't you heard of the Iron Price, child?" he retorted, his mouth twisted up into an amused smirk. His answer did not seem to deter her.

"You and I both know that the Iron Price is much too high, in this particular instance," she whispered, sitting up in her seat. "My men tell me that Euron is already rallying support with the Kingsmoot. Will you let him take your crown just as you let him take your wife?" she asked with enough ridicule off her tongue that his smile fell quickly and his jaw clenched under his teeth.

"Careful, girl," he whispered darkly. She, however, seemed to find his discomfort amusing. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that snide smirk off of her lips.

"Your claim to the crown is strong and your people would no doubt be better for it. With my ships so close to the Isles, I could have Euron disposed of with ease."

Her words were tempting enough that they stayed his thoughts about his large hands around her pretty little neck. He thought of Selene's fleet and how it sat cautiously out in the bay awaiting her orders. He had been lucky to catch her off guard before but he knew if the entire wrath of her fleet were pressed upon him there would be very little chance at that he would defeat her.

"What makes you think I would have dealings with a Baratheon? Or have you forgotten your histories?" he asked her and she rose her eyes from her dagger to his. "It was your father who suppressed the Iron Rebellion in Robert's name, was it not?"

"Perhaps the time has come to set aside ancient grudges," she suggested as she stood from the wooden chair. "Let us fight together," she whispered. "You're a reasonable man, Victarion-more reasonable than your brothers anyway." He couldn't stifle the chuckle in his throat."

"And how would you have me defeat your ships, then? Even you wouldn't allow for such a devastating defeat. We're both too proud to surrender at sea," he asked but the answer was already off her lips before he finished."

"That part is simple," she explained with a sigh. It was the first time he thought he saw something in her father for the briefest of moments. "Take me as your hostage, and demand your throne as the price for my ransom. My ships will not attack and my husband will have no choice but to agree. Your men will see it as a victory paid in full by the Iron Price."

"And what is your prize?" he asked with a tilt of his head. "Your husband not satisfactory enough for the Baratheon Queen's bed?"

"You take me _and_ the rest of your men back to Pyke. Leave the Neck open for my armies to return to Winterfell. And let us put this animosity to rest once and for all."

Victarion stared at Selene, not sure if she was foolish or wise. She had come with a plan in mind and she had not wagered against him turning her down. He considered it briefly, the sour expression that would haunt her features the moment he told her to get off his ship. He could stay in the Neck until Stark and Lannister destroyed one another. He could take his crown then. But her offer did not simply involve his throne. He hadn't forgotten what had enticed his attention to begin with.

"You are a brave girl," he replied, fondness in his voice. "I'll accept this plan, but any harm to my brother will not come back on me."

"No one will call you Kinslayer so long as we have our deal," she agreed as he stood. She reached out her hand to his and Victarion took it hard in his grip. She did not flinch as he squeezed.

"Then let us set sail at first light," he suggested. "You are no stranger to a ship. Put your men to work below deck."

"I require one other thing first," she announced as he turned his back. He glanced over his shoulder expectantly. "Send word to my husband at Riverrun of my ransom and demand the terms that you and I have agreed upon," instructed the girl and then as she turned for the door she paused her steps. "Oh, and do ensure my safety. He tends to worry."

And with those parting words she departed, leaving Victarion looking after her in amused admiration.

* * *

ONE MONTH LATER

**ROBB**

Robb very rarely rose his voice to the level in which he did in that moment as he ripped the parchment in his hands and slammed his fists against the wooden table. In fact, he remembered few times when he'd felt so much fury than that moment when he'd received Selene's ransom letter from the hands of Theon Greyjoy.

It had been the only thing to spare the traitor a moment of wrath in which Robb was ready to strangle or perhaps even stab his former foster brother until the life left his eyes. But Theon was part of the terms. Theon Greyjoy had betrayed him and his father and Robb was to be slighted his revenge.

"She agreed to it," Theon reminded Robb with desperate eyes when he'd been slammed against the stone wall with Robb's fingers around his throat.

"Do not speak," Robb had shouted and felt seconds away from his fingers closing hard enough around Theon's windpipe that it might crack. It was his mother who stopped him, begged him to stay his hand and think of his child.

Of course he thought of his child. His child and his ever-remaining foolish wife who had put him in this situation to begin with. Selene had bartered herself to free the Neck from the Ironborn and in return Robb was to allow Victarion to name himself king and hand over Balon's heir as a sign of good will. He thought for a moment if he ever saw Selene Baratheon again he might throttle her as well. But then he knew that wasn't true. For all the contempt he felt upon receiving her letter and Victarion's that afternoon, he knew why she'd done it. And he knew she wouldn't have unless it had been necessary.

But he still would make a point to voice his displeasure on the matter.

Now he was camped outside the Twins with the entirety of the army he could spare from the Westerlands, two weeks into his siege against Walder Frey. Upon seeing the riders he had been momentarily pleased. It was not until he caught sight of Theon that he felt the rage burning up from deep within him.

Twelve of his bannermen returned with news of his wife's parle with Victarion, three direwolves leading the charge. He recalled a time when many of these men before him were disgusted by Robb's decision to marry a Baratheon. Now as they spoke of her, it was as if they'd witnessed a woman even he had only seen a brief glimpse of. Each of them recounted their escape, how she came back to the dungeons to set them free and how she had been the one to plunge the knife into Ramsay Snow's neck during the chaos that had lead to her escape.

Beneath his anger he felt a surge of pride though he was not sure he could ever admit it to her in person. Her decision to deal with Victarion could not have come at a more inopportune moment. But with her letter came assurances that the Neck would be his once more and he would be free to reclaim Winterfell.

There was, of course, still the matter of what to do with the Twins once he'd taken it. They couldn't hold out much longer, they'd decided, and perhaps surrender would come in a matter of days with the bulk of Lord Frey's army in the North. Old Walder would want to make some sort of deal, no doubt. But the only thing Robb was interested in giving the old man was a swift death with the end of his sword.

Death would do for Theon too, he thought. A traitor's death at Robb's hands. Robb was merciful, but war had hardened him. And Theon's betrayal stung more than Walder Frey's. He knew his men would want Theon's death as much as he did. Because of Theon's treachery, the Northern coasts had been ravaged, homes had been destroyed and many of the men were concerned for their families.

Outside of Robb's council and the twelve returning bannermen, none of his army knew the truth of Selene's deal with Victarion. It was obvious why. If the men knew the truth of Selene's plans they would perhaps be angry. But more importantly, too many would know the truth of Victarion's claim. The Queen's ruse would ensure Victarion's bid for King of the Iron Isles. But if the ironborn knew the truth of Selene's plot, they would overthrow their own king. And Robb couldn't even explain to Theon that the only reason he wasn't on the receiving end of his wrath was thanks to his wife.

"Gather the council," he said to his squire, Olyvar who nodded his head only once before retreating into the sea of tents to find Robb's councilmembers. He then looked to Gyff. "Put him in irons," he instructed. "And don't' let him out of your sight."

Gyff took Theon roughly by the arms and Robb thought for a moment he heard Theon whisper something along the lines of an apology but he refused to acknowledge it. Grey Wind, who had been growling ferociously at Theon since he'd been thrown at Robb's feet, followed his master with one wary glance backwards. Robb made his way into the tent where his council would meet him. Upon entering he saw Jon sitting at the table, glancing down at the large map of Westeros, his eyes full of conflict.

"You can't go back," Robb whispered but it wasn't an order and Jon knew that when he looked up.

"I have to," he reminded his brother. "I am a sworn brother of the Night's Watch. I'm already probably considered a deserter by now, but Selene gave me this letter to help absolve me should I need it," he explained, holding up a bit of parchment in his hand.

Robb glanced at the paper longingly, wishing now that he hadn't destroyed Selene's letter as he had Victarion's ransom note. Appeasing his fury might have been her cause in writing it, but the familiarity in her words and script was still strangely comforting.

"Vows are vows," Jon continued. "Uncle Benjen is First Ranger and I am the Commander's steward. They've no doubt sent someone after the two of us."

"What if I released you?" Robb suggested and the words came off his lips much faster than he'd intended.

"Even you can't do that, Robb," Jon replied, lowering his eyes and shaking his head. "King in the North you may be but you know they don't bow to any crowns. If they did, don't you think they would have headed your wife's call the first time?"

"Perhaps," Robb replied, but he did not smile as his brother had intended him to. "But if I were to send back a hundred men in your place I doubt they'd stand in your way as you walked out those gates."

Neither spoke as Jon's eyes met Robb's in surprise. Jon wanted to object. But Robb could see the consideration in his brother's eyes. Robb pulled his own bit of parchment from inside his doublet, guarded safely over his heart in between two other letters that he often kept close to his heart. He pulled it out and handed it to Jon.

"What's this?" he asked.

"You don't recognize it?" Robb replied and Jon glanced down at the broken seal that belonged to the Queen in the North.

"Is this the letter I brought you?" Jon questioned and Robb's curt nod was the answer. "She gave that to me the night Ramsay Snow attacked Winterfell. She wanted it to go to you."

"It's her will," Robb told him stiffly, still remembering the first time he'd read it himself. "In it she lists a number of instructions I am to follow in the event of her-" he paused and Jon nodded.

Jon's eyes glanced over the words and in it he would find simple but strict instructions as to how Robb was to handle the Kingdoms should she die before claiming them. First, it was to be Robb's responsibility to ensure any children they shared were to lay claim. If no children survived, he was to search out Shireen, help her claim the throne if she was still alive. But far below the wishes for the crown and the Baratheon fortune she may one day inherit, she left Robb specific instructions regarding the legitimization of the bastards Jon Snow and Edric Storm. The legitimization of her bastard cousin of course was only in the event of Shireen's death, in which case she wanted the Baratheon name to live on in any way she could manage.

"Why does she name me?" Jon asked quickly, looking up to Robb who let his cheeks rise up slightly.

"At Seagard, just days before I left for the West and she travelled to Winterfell, I told Selene that I had always hoped Father would legitimize you," Robb began and Jon's face hardened somewhat at the topic of conversation. "I told her that one night I'd come across a petition to King Robert, requesting just that. Only some time after the discovery, I'd seen my mother throw that same petition in the fire." It was hard to admit, but both he and Jon knew the reality of Catelyn Starks resentment of Jon in their household. "Selene reminded me of something that I am ashamed to say that I had previously not considered on my own. Of power I did not realized I even had until recently."

"What was that?" Jon managed to ask.

"That I am the King in the North, and it is by order of a king alone that a bastard, acknowledged by his Lord Father, may be legitimized," Robb quoted from memory. "I am King, Jon. And it is my wish, and Selene's as well, that you be legitimized."

"In the event of her death, you mean?" Jon asked and Robb shook his head.

"I would do it this very moment if you'd accept it," Robb whispered and the tension grew heavy in between them as the weight of the words came down on them both. "Selene's will does not legitimize you, but was written here as a reminder to me, to ensure that I did not forget that I want nothing more than for us to be brothers by name - not just by blood."

"Robb-" Jon tried to protest but Robb placed a second parchment on the table, flattening it out and displaying it for his brother to see.

"You _are_ my brother, Jon. Accept this and allow me to make it official. Jon _Stark_-as it should be. Accept this and be my heir should anything happen."

"But if I don't renounce my vows, you'll not sign it?" Jon asked curiously and Robb felt slightly insulted by the words.

"Night's Watch or no, I want you to leave this room a Stark," Robb answered, his voice stern. "If you decide you want to fight alongside me, I would be honored and I will send men to the Wall to take your place. You might recall, I have several hundred Freys at my disposal for the betrayal they inflicted."

Jon tried to smile and it was good enough for Robb in knowing that his brother had not been offended by his offer. Jon had duties and loyalty and honor. Robb knew them as well as any man. But he also knew that he needed his brother by his side.

Jon did not answer him right way, just as Robb had expected. He'd sat beside him during the meeting of the council members and each of them voiced their concerns about treating with Victarion. Half of the council was still furious over Selene's secret treaty whilst the others responded with only encouragement. These were the same me who had fought their way out of Winterfell by their queen's side.

"You refuse them and you risk our Queen and the child she carries," Lord Mallister expressed and as Robb had predicted, several of the men around the table snorted in amusement.

"Can we cease the pretence that this alliance with the Baratheons has caused anything but trouble for us?" Robin Flint retorted and Robb could feel his jaw clench as eyes darted nervously towards him.

"It was Baratheon ships that helped us claim Casterly Rock," Wendel Manderly hissed. "If it hadn't been for our Queen we'd still be warring in the West."

"And if it hadn't been for our _Queen_," Maege Mormont protested. "We wouldn't be in this mess with Walder Frey."

Robb knew why both House Flint and Mormont were angry. Their lands had experienced the brunt of the attacks by the Ironborn. But the invasion hadn't been Selene's fault, regardless of the contempt they felt for her. That fault was with Theon.

"You can be angry with me, My Lords," Robb spoke then. "Perhaps if I had married a Frey girl then we wouldn't be sitting outside Lord Walder's fortress walls demanding for his surrender." Each man, and woman, shifted slightly. "But _if_ I'd married a Frey girl, turned down the offer to marry Selene Baratheon, then we would not have had the ships to take the Westerlands. A Frey girl would not have given me war ships. She would not have warded off the Ironborn and she would likely not be alive. Selene may have acted rashly but she sacrificed much to keep control of the North despite the betrayal we were faced with. And even if I _had_ married one of Walder's daughters, who's to say he still would not have betrayed us for the promise of more gold?"

No one had a ready answer. They talked down on his wife in front of him and Robb wanted to remind that that although things had been difficult, it was because of Selene that he had been so victorious.

"Now if we're done speaking ill of our Queen-," the Blackfish muttered angrily. "-can we focus on how we get her back and crown that old cod, king?"

"She saved us," Daryn Hornwood agreed. "She came back for us when we were likely dead in Bolton's hands. I for one do not plan to abandon her."

"No one is abandoning her," Robb replied quickly and much more stiffly than he'd intended. He thought he saw the Blackfish grin somewhere beneath his usual sour expression. "A small group will ride to Seagard at dawn. Out in the bay, Selene's ships await a decision. There, Victarion-I assume by Selene's suggestion-has instructed a meeting for the terms to be discussed and accepted at which point a prisoner exchange will occur."

"Theon for the Queen?" Patrick asked and Robb nodded.

"Along with the men Selene has with her. Cley Cerwyn and Smalljon Umber are amongst them."

"Can we truly trust them, Your Grace?"

"No," he answered honestly. "I'm not sure we can. But under the circumstances we are left with little choice. If Victarion truly means to take Selene's offer, we must hold to our end of the bargain. I will not assign men to this mission who may think it a folly. But I will say those of you who do, will have my utmost gratitude."

"His Grace will stay here to see over the siege and look over the execution of Walder Frey," the Blackfish clarified. "And therefore he needs his best fighters, preferably those who have at least some experience on bloody boat." Robb knew it was the Riverlords he referred to. "And if it pleases His Grace, I will lead the group." Robb nodded once in appreciation. "Mallister?"

"I'll go," Patrick replied, looking back at his father who seemed reluctant to allow his son anywhere near the bay. But House Mallister was experienced against the Ironborn and would therefore be a wise asset.

"I will go as well," Robb heard from his left and he looked to see Jon standing. It was his answer to Robb's earlier request, he realized. Unspoken elation passed through them in one brief look before he nodded.

One by one council members stood or offered up their sons as guard for the treating with Victarion. Men who had fought with their Queen would be willing to fight for her again if need be. Robb would have been the first to volunteer had his uncle not reminded him of his need to stay at the Twins. Still he felt a guilt rising inside of him as he watched each man volunteer for his wife. And yet Robb couldn't budge.

Ultimately it was decided that twenty men would be spared in the morning, relieved of their posts at the siege and would ride hard to Seagard and take to the bay to free their Queen. And in three three day's time, Selene would be on her way back to him.

Their child in tow.

* * *

**SELENE**

The Iron Islands had few redeeming qualities. The weather was both bleak and disagreeable that morning, though she was glad to feel the movement of the ship beneath her feet as they set out into the bay. The skies were dark, as they had been for the last few weeks and nothingness surrounded them as the longship sailed out against the fog.

Angus stood on his back legs, his front paws perched happily on the side of the boat to her right. He had always taken well to the sea, and had sailed with her on every trip she could remember since he was a pup. Now they peered out into the bay, the low hanging fog around them like a ghostly whisper of those who had died at sea. It seemed like hours before Victarion came to the bow with a smirk hanging off his lips. He wasn't wearing his armor as she thought he might. She hoped that meant he trusted her. His face was covered in scruff black hair, peppered with white as his age began to finally shine through.

"You've kept to your word, girl," the man spoke and Selene tried not to look bothered by his choice of words.

"Yes, as I promised," Selene replied easily. Angus dropped down by her side, positioning himself between Victarion and his mistress. "Did you not believe I could make it happen?"

"I cannot say I had much faith, no," he answered honestly and she thought she might chuckle.

"Your brother had more hubris than I expected," she replied lazily. "It made his defeat easier than I had originally planned. I lost very few men in the process."

"And how _did_ you manage? My brother might have been a madman, but he was not inexperienced in battle."

"No," she admitted. "But his strategy was flawed. It came down to simple logistics in which my plan far surpassed the success of his own."

"A strategy you still tell me nothing of," laughed Victarion.

"I learned it long ago, in a story which I care not to relay to you. Perhaps we have made a temporary partnership on this voyage, but I cannot claim that I trust you any more than I did your brother."

"Fair enough, Baratheon," he nodded. "Ah-just in time," he shouted, looking over her shoulder out at the water. Selene turned to see a ship, somewhat larger than the longship they sailed upon and there, nearest the bow, she spotted Stark banners. "Your King's envoy and your carriage home."

"Our deal still stands. With your brother dead, you hold the favor with the Kingsmoot. Once you are crowned, you will be recognized as King of the Iron Isles by the North and the Trident. Our lands are off limits to your pillaging and your men will leave the North immediately. Once I claim the Iron Throne, the rest of the kingdoms will follow suit in your recognition. And finally, Theon Greyjoy will not have any claim to the throne. He will be disinherited. Is that clear?"

"You'll hear no complaints from me on that matter," Victarion agreed, barking out a laugh. "The child isn't fit to rule the Ironborn. He's proven that already."

"Good," was her only reply as the ships came closer together and she spotted Jon Snow, Gyff and the Blackfish being lowered down into a small rowboat.

Selene could feel Victarion step closer, his hand on her shoulder as he pushed her hair gently away from her ear. She flinched only slightly, trying not to appear anxious at his nearness. His height had been intimidating upon first meeting him. But Selene was too close to being free of him that she did not dare reveal any weakness now.

"There is one last thing, a parting gift you could call it, that I have to offer you," whispered Victarion. in her ear.

"I want nothing from you," she answered slowly, her expression like stone but she felt his lips curl against her ear as she watched the rowboat come closer.

"Not even those who betrayed you?" he asked and her eyes darted away from Jon as she took in Victarion's words. "You don't think Balon and I sought out the North simply because your Young Wolf bartered to make my brother king in exchange for our ships do you?" His chuckle was low and enough to cause a chill run up her spine. "The idea of pillaging the North was indeed tempting. But we knew your ships were too many for even the Iron Fleet to defeat. Luckily for us, there were men who approached us, willing to turn their loyalties to the Ironborn for status and plunder. If it hadn't been for their support, I might not have known about that old fool you had appointed to travel west around the Isles." She thought of Oswyn and how she thought his defeat had come too easily.

"Who?" she insisted, feeling her blood beginning to boil. "Tell me their names."

"Ah, but see. What good will it do to you now?" he teased her, his arms on her shoulders. The rowboat was close enough now that they prepared to board the _Iron Victory_ and Selene could feel herself trembling with anger. "My parting gift is their names, but if you want their heads, then you will have to return to Pyke with me. I will give them to you, if you promise stay until the crowning and until my men are returned from the North and then I'll send you back to the mainland in good health."

"You know I am with child," she hissed and she clenched her hands against the wood of the bow. "The return of your ships will take months."

"Have your son at Pyke," he insisted. "You will have your revenge and I will have you to ensure the Kingsmoot's decision."

Selene did not answer as Victarion stepped away but the thought was heavy on her mind as she watched Jon climb aboard, followed by Gyff, Theon and the Blackfish. The tension in their eyes was high until they spotted her, unharmed and unguarded near the bow of the ship with Angus by her side. Gyff was the first to approach her, bowing slightly as he took in her appearance.

"My Queen," he whispered, almost in relief and she nodded.

"I am well, Gyff," she insisted. "Has the King sent a message?" she asked and he nodded, motioning to Jon who was next to approach her, followed by the Blackfish who had Theon in his grasp.

"The King in the North, Robb Stark, has agreed the terms set in place by Victarion Greyjoy including the recognition of him as King of the Iron Isles and ruler of the seas south of Ironman's Bay. His nephew, Theon Greyjoy, will be returned in exchange for the Queen and her guard, with the condition that he will be banished from the mainland of Westeros, and will be henceforth disinherited from all lines of succession to the throne of the Ironborn."

Jon did not have to read the terms as he spoke. Selene noticed for the first time that he was not in all black and she allowed herself a small smile when she understood their implication. Jon was a Stark. Jon was restored a position of legitimization and was relieved of his duty at the Wall.

Victarion took the parchment from Jon's hands as he looked over the words. He stroked his beard in consideration, not once glancing up to see his nephew's weary expression. He nodded, mumbled the words to himself as he read them over and finally placed the parchment on a small crate on deck. A young man at his side provided a quill and ink. He started to sign, but then paused, glancing up at her with a knowing gaze. His eyes seemed to understand her wishes as he stood.

"I nearly forgot," he announced, placing his quill down on the parchment. "I am afraid the Queen and I agreed to separate terms prior to your arrival, My Lords."

Jon took a step towards her, but Selene did not meet his gaze.

"The Queen leaves with us, today," the Blackfish warned and she knew that though the man was older, he would be first to his sword if need be.

"Unfortunately she has already agreed to stay with me, until the crowning and until my fleet has returned from the North," Victarion replied, boredly. "Is that not right, Your Grace?"

She glanced around just once at the wide eyes around her and she nodded curtly when she said, "He speaks the truth. I have agreed to extend my stay in Pyke until all of these conditions are met."

"To what end!?" Jon nearly shouted. "What do you gain, Selene?" he whispered as he closed in and she shook her head.

"That is my business, Jon. You will tell the King that the moment those boats arrive in harbor at Pyke, that I will be released. There is no ruse to this deal. You must trust me on this." Jon shook his head furiously.

"No-"

"No?!" she asked, frowning. "You would defy your Queen?"

"Yes!" he nearly shouted. "You had me leave you at Winterfell, knowing full well the danger you put your child in. I refuse to let you do the same again, for whatever reasons you have roped yourself into believing. Do not be selfish Selene."

"Do not presume that you can stop me, Jon," she replied with equal defiance. "Take my message to Robb. And I will return when my deal has been settled. Am I understood?"

"Do not make me do this," he pleaded, placing his hand on hers as he lowered his voice. "Robb has abided your foolish behavior for too long. This he will not abide."

"He must," she answered. "Do as I've said."

"It is not only your life I seek to protect here," he muttered. "You want to stand here and barter your life, fine. But I cannot allow you to barter your child's."

"I do not-"

"You won't put this child in danger!" he shouted again.

One by one then the men circled around her, Cley Cerwyn, the Blackfish, and Gyff first, the other men following. She tried to step away but each time she did another man blocked her.

"This is a deal between Kings," Jon finally said, glancing back at Victarion. "Either accept the terms laid out before you, or the deal will be null and we take the Queen by force."

Victarion barked out a laugh as he spoke, "You'll _take the Queen by force_? Your Queen wants her revenge. You would deny her that right?"

"Tell me the names!" Selene shouted wildly as the Blackfish held her back.

"The names will never be satisfaction enough. They'll haunt you until you come crawling to my door, begging for their heads."

"Tell me," she ground out, pushing the Blackfish off of her as she stepped forward, out from behind her men. Victarion leaned down, scribbling some semblance of a signature on the parchment and let Jon be the one to collect it as he walked towards her. He paused next to her, and at that moment every hand was on a sword except perhaps her own and Victarion's. He leaned in to speak, but his answer was interrupted by the cries of one of his men.

"My Lord!" the man shouted from the bow, a piece of parchment waving desperately in his hand.

Victarion turned from Selene, watching as the man ran down from his post, handing the letter over. The man's complexion was pale and his eyes wide and he looked at Selene as if she were some sort of ghostly figure. Victarion's eyes widened as well as he read the words. It was when he reached the end he glanced up at her and this time, his eyes were not full of amusement. It was anger.

"You have more balls than all of my men put together, I'll give you that," he spoke, his voice dripping with amused disdain that caused her to furrow her brow. Angus moved swiftly, standing between her and the man who looked ready to throttle her.

"While I appreciate the compliment-very flattering words indeed-I cannot say I understand their meaning," she replied as patiently as she could muster and did not see his hand as it flew up to meet the side of her face.

Her head flew back slightly, recoiling against the force of his strike and Angus' growl grew to a bark. He exposed his teeth but Victarion ignored the vicious sounds growing in Angus' throat. Jon was in front of her then, pushing himself between her and Victarion who drew his sword.

"I just received word from your father at the Wall. It seems, Queen in the North, that you've lied to me," he hissed and Selene felt her heart sink low in her chest as her footing faltered only slightly.

"If you've received word from my father-," she whispered. "-then this too is news to me."

"Our deal rests solely upon your right to the Iron Throne. If your father takes the crown then he could nullify it quicker than it would take for me to run your errand boy here through with my sword," he spat. "No one will leave this ship, and that deal you have in your pocket boy-it is void."

"Are deal does not change," she insisted. "My father being alive does not discredit that."

"Perhaps, but he'll never abide it," was Victarion's reply. He seemed to think for a long moment, before reaching towards her and pulling her hard against his chest, her back slamming into him as she felt the cold steel of his sword against her throat. "New plan, northmen," he hissed. "I take her to Pyke with me and make her _my_ Queen. See what Stannis Baratheon does when his heir is married to the King of the Iron Isles."

"You idiot," she grumbled, rolling her eyes at the oaf's ridiculous plot. Her men were at a standstill now, only bloodshed would end it, she thought. She did not plan to submit now. "I am already a King's wife. And the moment you attempted to married me, my father would disinherit me and make my sister his heir. It would be all for naught-this deal and any future deals with House Baratheon or Stark. You would only succeed in witnessing the wrath of my husband."

Victarion considered this, for many moments as he held her there. She took the time to glance at Jon. He watched the scene unfolding in front of him, anxiously. The worry was clear in his eyes and she wondered if, despite her cool demeanor, he could see it in her's as well. She felt the danger now, more than before. Before things had been on her terms. Before the blade had been against Victarion's neck. Now there was little else that separated her and her child from death than a brute's mercy.

He pushed her then, so hard that Jon had to drop his sword so he could catch her. She grasped his shoulders, his doublet curled under her fingers to help keep her balance. Jon handed her then to the Blackfish and this time she had a feeling that if she were to struggle, he would not let her go.

"Take her then, and get off my ship," Victarion growled before turning his back on her and leaving her without the answer she craved.

By the time she reached the other ship, she was seething. She watched helplessly as the _Iron Victory_ disappeared into more clouds of fog and her road to revenge with it. But then, there were more important matters now. She allowed herself to entertain the idea of Shireen's safety for only a moment. Her hopes, while never completely shattered, had been low. She could not bear to allow them to rise without cause.

And so, under the careful watch of the Blackfish, Gyff, Cley and the Smalljon, she wrote her letter as they considered whether or not they would have to tie her down below deck to keep her from running again.

She was sure to let them know that the first man to lay a hand on her would lose his finger.

* * *

****

****A/N: So this chapter originally ended with Selene not meeting the envoy and staying back at Pyke where she would have remained for half of the next chapter before that final conversation with Victarion and her release. That being said, you'll have to read the next chapter to see if Robb and Selene finally get their reunion! Or if I have terrible plans for them both….yikes! Thanks again for all the wonderful comments on the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one just as much.-Lola ****


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

**SELENE**

That night she dreamt.

Wild images of faces upon faces flashed before her eyes. Smirks and laughter plagued her, memories of men who had served by her side were now her enemies, her betrayers. Somewhere in the distance she could see Alys, hear her cries for help as she bled out in the snow. Selene wanted to run, push as fast as she could to help her friend and yet she still felt as if she was standing still. Her muscles did not want to budge and despite her cries for help each man only laughed and pointed. Everything ended when she felt a sword through her back and a deep laugh belonging to a man she could not see.

She awoke with a start and she thought she felt Angus move across her feet. She opened her eyes slowly and gasped when she saw a large direwolf standing over her, glancing down at her curiously. He was larger than she remembered, but she recognized his yellow eyes that danced in the firelight.

"Grey," she whispered and his head tilted slightly.

Selene glanced towards the bed and saw Angus looking up with tired eyes, his body wrapped around Rickon who she had not known had crawled into her bed in the night. The boy's direwolf was happily snoring by the fire, almost mirroring the faint smile on his master's lips.

Grey Wind sniffed at her, as if he was checking for injuries and then stopped at the bump that protruded from her stomach. He looked curious as he lightly nudged it once, and then again when nothing seem to happen. And then, as if he had been expecting it all along, she felt a small jolt within her. She might have missed it if she hadn't been so still beneath Grey Wind's gaze. The flutter was light, but her hand went straight to the roundness as it happened. Grey seemed satisfied because he crawled to the empty space on her left and curled up next to her, his heavy head just to the left of her belly with his cold nose touching her.

"Where is your master?" she asked softly, placing her hand on his head and stroking his soft fur. He returned her touch by rubbing his ears into her palm.

Rickon stirred slightly, shifting from his place next to Angus and scooting under the furs until his arms were draped across her abdomen. She watched his slow breaths as they fell back into a steady rhythm. He was a small boy still and his hair was beginning to grow as long and unruly as he was. She indulged her restless curiosity and let her fingers brush through the light auburn curls and tried not to laugh when she was met with a stubborn tangle.

Rickon had barely left her side since she'd arrived at Riverrun and even less so when they'd travelled the two day journey to the Twins. He'd clung to her anxiously, excusing his behavior as his duties as an uncle. She had not known how much she had missed the child until he'd leapt up at her, his arms slung around her neck. He was instructed to stay in his rooms at night but each night she'd awake with him by her side.

They had arrived at the Twins late the night before and she had been ushered straight into chambers that had been readied for her and the King. Only there was no king waiting for her. The room was empty aside from Aida and Ysmay who readied her for bed. It was Ysmay who had informed her that Robb was still in the camps. Selene fell asleep wondering if he would even see her when he returned. She assumed it had been not long after when Rickon had snuck into her bed.

Robb had sent word a week earlier that the siege was broken and that Walder Frey had been executed for his treason. Many of his sons shared his fate leaving Robb to choose House Frey's new Lord-a young man called Perwyn. To seal their loyalties, Robb offered his uncle, Edmure Tully, to marry Perwyn's sister Roslin. It was for the wedding that she had been summoned and upon her arrival she had seen the beginnings of feast preparation for the next day's event.

Robb had not written back after she sent him letters from Riverrun, but she was not entirely surprised. Her actions since their separation had been called into question and while her success was still celebrated, the means of her success was not. He'd written to Jon and insisted that she be kept under close watch and was forbidden to leave Riverrun until instructed. She had written him another letter with her response which after some cooling down and afterthought, now lay crumpled in the corner of the room where she'd thrown it.

It had been nearly six month since she'd last seen her husband and now they were to be reunited under less than favorable circumstances. They had left things up in the air when they parted ways at Seagard. She had given herself to him in one night of desperate passion and even more, she had enjoyed the memory of that night. Once together would she be able to reignite that small flame that had been burning slowly between them?

Sometime between her thoughts of Robb and dawn she had fallen asleep once more and was awoken a second time, this time by Aida as the light began to leak through the curtains. Rickon was reluctant to wake, so she peeled him off of her only long enough for her to get out of bed and let him sleep as Aida brought in her breakfast.

"Any word from the camps?" Selene asked though both she and Aida knew the real question was if there was any word from the King.

"King Robb sent word to Lady Stark that he would return by midday to prepare for tonight's festivities," Aida explained and Selene nodded slowly. "Perhaps, My Lady, you wish to send word of your arrival."

"His direwolf found his way to me last night, I think the king is very aware that I am here," Selene replied coldly.

She ate her breakfast quietly as Aida finished Selene's dress in the corner. Ysmay joined them, a letter in hand and a quick step as she walked quickly to Selene's side. Selene lowered her juice, swallowing a bite of egg before looking down at the letter in the young woman's hand. The handwriting was enough that Selene dropped her napkin carelessly and took the letter, ripping it open as she stood.

Her eyes travelled eagerly over the words and she did not realize she was holding her breath until she let out one long sigh at the familiar script.

_Dear Selene,_

_Before your letter arrived at the Wall, I was begging father to allow me to write you. But no one was certain of your whereabouts just as I am sure you were concerned about ours. You must understand that after the Battle of the Blackwater, father moved us immediately from our home at Dragonstone into hiding. I am not entirely sure how we ended up at the Wall but Ser Davos received word that Night's Watch needed aid, thus inciting our journey to the North._

_I received your raven just before we departed, but father forbid me from writing you in case my letter was intercepted by our enemies. Now we wait for our march south. Ser Davos is not optimistic that we will be able to gain enough support before the full of winter comes. But of course it is the Red Witch who has father's ear. She is worse than you can imagine and is constantly spouting her nonsense to our father and his followers. Even mother listens now and turns a blind eye to the way the woman snakes herself around our father._

_I miss you. I wasn't going to tell you that, but I think that this secluded place has made me realize it even more. There is hardly anything to do here other than to talk to Gilly. Gilly is a wildling and mother thinks she will harm me if given the chance. But she's kind enough and she wants to read so very badly. I don't see the harm in teaching her a few things._

_Ser Davos has also been taking lessons, though don't tell him I told you. I think he'd be embarrassed if you knew. I read him your letter and I think he was relieved to know you were well. I think he called you 'mad' when he heard you were with Victarion, but I think it was rather courageous. I want to hear all about the Iron Isles in your next letter. Are they truly like the pirates Ser Davos talks about? And did you have to fight anyone?_

_I don't have any other news, other than there are no children where I am, except Gilly's baby. He is cute and smiles quite a lot. They call him Sam. Mother never lets me hold him, but I'm not sure Gilly would let me anyways, even though I'd like to. She's very protective over him._

_Please write again soon. I hope to hear you are in Winterfell before long. I think it is a short journey there from the Wall._

_Wishing you well with much love,_  
_Shireen_

_PS. Ser Davos sends well wishes also and would not object if you sent him a letter as well._

Selene did not not know what came over her as tears started rolling down her cheeks. She felt a swift emotion rush over her upon reading her sister's words and she was quickly overwhelmed by whatever it was that caused her eyes to water and her throat to swell.

"My Lady. What's wrong?" Aida asked, setting down Selene's gown as she rushed to her side.

Selene waved her hand to tell her it was nothing as she let herself sit down on the bed. Grey Wind nudged her leg anxiously and she felt a small hand cover her own. A sleepy-eyed Rickon appeared from behind her, lying his head down in her lap as he looked up at her with concern in his eyes. She had a feeling that was the reason why Shaggydog and Angus were both at her feet, whimpering lightly at her distress.

She suddenly felt much too crowded.

"It is nothing," she tried to say though her tears kept coming. "My sister is well or so she writes."

"But that is good news, is it not?" Ysmay replied with a small grin and Selene nodded.

"Yes...or at least it ought to be. I just can't seem to stop," she answered, frustrated that she could not keep control of herself as she was so used to. She heard a small giggle then, a then another and soon she realized it was coming from Aida.

"Oh...My Lady I am so sorry. Please excuse me I just-" she paused as she laughed again. "I think you are crying because-well because of the baby."

"The baby?" Selene asked through her tears and she heard Ysmay laugh as well.

"Yes, My Lady. Often times a pregnancy makes it difficult to control one's emotions. It seems as though you are just exceedingly sensitive at the moment."

Selene stared up at her maids for several moments. And then, as if she could not control the rise in her through, she too burst out a laugh and she covered her mouth to hide it, to no avail. The laughter increased until even Rickon was laughing merrily and Selene was sure if there was anyone passing by the Queen's chambers, they would think the room was full of young girls giggling and gossiping. When instead it was just their oversensitive Queen laughing for absolutely no reason at all.

And for a brief moment she was happy Robb wasn't there and that he wasn't watching her make a fool of herself...a bigger fool, perhaps, than she already was.

* * *

**JON**

Jon was not sure what to expect when Selene reunited with Robb that evening for the wedding. Robb had been insisting all day he was much too busy to tend to his wife with whom he'd been separated for nearly six months. The mere mention of her name caused Robb's shift uncomfortably.

Jon had once heard from Selene's former maid, Alys, that Robb had grown quite fond of Selene in their brief time together. Alys, being the gossip that she was, had several stories of the king and queen that painted them in a very different light than he was exposed to now. He'd watched them closely as Selene had descended the steps into the great hall of the Twins and Robb stood at the foot of the steps looking impatient and frustrated. He'd barely looked at her, glanced only briefly in her direction, giving her a curt once over and then escorted her silently to their seats near the altar.

Selene looked more shocked than anyone at her husband's reaction. Jon had never before seen his brother behave in such a manner. Upon returning from Pyke, Jon had found Robb in the middle of a council meeting. His interruption was met with relief by most upon hearing of the Queen's return. But Robb barely took notice of it.

They stood in silence, Jon to Selene's right and Robb to her left as they watched Roslin Frey walk nervously towards the alter. Selene didn't budge save for her fingers which clenched at her side. Slowly they released as the ceremony wore on and while her lips were settled in an indifferent line, it was clear that the tension was growing.

After the ceremony was complete, Robb did not take Selene's hand on his arm, nor did he usher her through the crowds. Eyes lingered on the couple who seemed more at odds than they'd previously witnessed and many began to notice the King's distaste for his wife's presence. Jon tried to say something, whisper in his brother's ear as they sipped ale to jolly music at the feast, but he neither acknowledged Jon's concerns nor did he seem to care as he turned back to the folly of the reception.

The one commonality the king and queen shared that evening was in emptying their wine goblets. Selene was given very little wine, but what she had was drained as soon as it was poured and she clenched her wine-stained teeth against her lips when Robb danced with several young ladies during the evening. Jon would have asked her himself had he believed she'd find any enjoyment in it. But the fact remained that while Selene Baratheon was glaring furiously at her husband as he danced with other women, she did not have any fondness for dancing herself. She sat up straight, eyes focused solely on Robb as he stepped prettily with each young woman who batted her lashes towards him. She did not say a word when Jon took her wine glass but he knew if his eyes met hers, he'd find a furious woman glaring back in his direction.

In fact, by the fourth dance Selene excused herself from the hall completely and went up to her chambers without escort or a maid. She was forced, by happenstance, to pass by her husband as he spun a particularly handsome young woman nearby and not once did she glance in his direction as the guards opened the doors for her and let her pass.

Robb on the other hand did spare a lingering glance after his wife's retreating figure, though the smile never left his lips.

Jon stood then, stepping in between each couple as he walked towards his brother. He dodged each dancer's steps, weaved between them until he was able to grab Robb's shoulder. Robb spun around slowly with an expression that was both annoyed and slightly inebriated. Jon pulled him towards a more isolated area of the hall and lowered his voice as he spoke.

"Follow your wife before you damage things beyond repair," he insisted and Robb pulled Jon's hand from his shoulder as his smile fell.

"Do not bother yourself with my affairs, brother," Robb replied though his reply was that of a man who'd had a goblet of wine too many.

"I would keep to my own opinions if I thought you were treating her fairly," Jon added. "But since her return you have barely acknowledged her without contempt in your eyes." Robb's eyes fell and his jaw clenched. "I heard the way you spoke of her. I know this is not you. You are not the kind of man who would embarass his wife in front of her people by essentially shunning her and offering her up to the gossipmongers with pleasure in your eyes."

"I am doing no such thing," Robb argued. "You have spent much time with my bride lately, have you not?" Jon nodded, indulging his brother's rant. "You know that she causes little else but headaches when she is determined to do as she pleases."

"I can understand your frustration, trust me, I do. But is it wise to shame her for it so publicly?"

"And I understand your concern, Jon. But let me handle my wife how I see fit. I assure you I do not do so unjustly or without cause," Robb answered him, patting Jon's shoulder and then walking out the door himself.

Jon, meanwhile, was left with a very confused expression and not a clue to understanding what in the world his brother had meant.

* * *

**SELENE**

She'd ripped it. She hadn't meant to...or perhaps she had...and yet there it was, her beautiful gown that had been hand stitched by Aida with care. Selene had discarded it in her fury as she forced it eagerly from her body and threw it carelessly to the ground.

Her chest was heaving as she stared at it, in a messy pile on the floor while she stood in her shift with her arms crossed stubbornly. He had humiliated her, made her feel as insignificant as a stranger at his side. She had refused to show her displeasure at the time, but in the privacy of these rooms she could no longer restrain it.

Was she truly so naive to think that her husband would have been pleased at her return, that he would greet her with something other than bored indifference. She was certain if his gaze had met her own that she might have seen some semblance of joy. But he did not look her in the eye, nor did he bother in looking at her much at all during the festivities that suddenly felt more forced than festive.

She was not afforded her privacy for long, however, and though her back was turned away from the door, she knew that it was Robb's steps entering the room. The sound of the door shutting behind him was somewhat less dramatic than she had anticipated. She had thought perhaps it might slam behind him in a manner that would match his current demeanor, but instead it shut with a small click when he began making his way across the room. His boots were slow, a steady pace against the floor and despite her internal protesting, she could not stay her racing heart.

She felt his hands first and she felt herself jerk despite the pleasant warmth of his calloused palms against her flesh.

"Do not touch me," she hissed in a hushed voice, stepping closer towards the fire and away from his grasp. She crossed her arms across her chest when he reached for her again and this time, she could not help herself as she closed her eyes from the contact. "If you are angry with me, Your Grace, then perhaps it would be best for us to sleep in separate chambers this night," she suggested, trying to distract herself from his breath on her neck.

"I am indeed angry with you," he confirmed, his voice low and his stubble grazing gently over the soft flesh of her shoulder. "But I refuse to let you out of my sight after what you've put me through."

"What I've _put you through_?" she scoffed, turning on him furiously. "You asked me to protect the North and I've done that and more. I have ensured our safety from the Ironborn and-"

"No," he interrupted with a simple word, a quiet, gentle word that left his lips so easily that she thought perhaps at first that she hadn't heard it. He stared at her for many moments as he glanced over her face, his eyes dancing over her for the first time since they'd reunited. "We are not going to argue tonight." At this she let out a laugh.

"You humiliate me in front of our subjects, make it seem as if I am little more than some adornment to be worn at your side, and yet you expect me to sit here and accept that with dignity? Or perhaps you expected a smile on my lips as you insulted my presence all evening."

Somehow he pulled her closer, erasing any space that had once existed between them and though Selene did not attempt to free herself, she stared up at him defiantly. He did not smile, but there was something about the way the fire danced in his blue eyes that made something twist deep inside of her.

"It is a terrible feeling, is it not? To feel as if you have no control, to have your wishes disregarded at every turn?" Selene's brow furrowed at his words. "You may have felt insulted by my coldness this evening, My Lady, but it is you who has made the fool out of me," he whispered.

Selene did not have a moment to make out his meaning before his lips crashed into hers and he lifted her from where she stood and laid her out on the bed nearby. He leaned over her, caressing her tongue with his own as his hands traveled over her hips and gripped her thighs. She felt herself unable to think as he moved his lips over her jawline, down her neck until he heard his voice once again next to her ear.

"You reckless-," he panted, his breaths staggered. "-foolish-," he added, his lips on her earlobe. "-insufferable wife of mine."

She couldn't help the small gasp that escaped her throat when his hands traveled up her legs, pausing at the space between her thighs that plagued her with a longing that she had once desperately tried to ignore. The pressure began to build, but not as slowly as it had in the past. It was swift and hard as it hit her and despite the defiance she felt for her husband in that moment, she did not want him to stop whatever he was doing beneath the thin fabric of her shift.

"Say it," he whispered against her skin. A thin layer of perspiration had already appeared across her skin and squirmed under his touch as his fingers paused. "Tell me you were reckless, that you were foolish to do what you did," he repeated and she felt her teeth clamp in exasperation.

"I did what had to be done," she ground out, bucking her hips in desperate search of relief as the pressure continued to build.

"Say it, Selene," he urged but his tone was neither harsh nor dark.

He was pleading with her, just as her body was pleading with him and one of them would have to break. He was playing this game, his aim was her submission and Selene toyed briefly with the idea of defying him. But when she felt his fingers slowly press inside of her, whatever insubordinate reply she had for him was lost in a moan of pleasure. It surprised her, how badly she wanted him and simultaneously angered her that he had toyed with her to elicit such a reaction. But his lips over her breasts, his tongue around the flesh colored peaks, distracted her from whatever indignation she might have once had. What she wanted then, was him. She wanted to feel him inside of her with her legs draped over his hips.

"Say it," he whispered again, his teeth grazing gently over her breasts and she gripped the furs on the bed tightly in her grasp.

"I-" she panted. "I was reckless," she conceded and Robb's mouth was hot against her neck. She tried to clench her thighs together to relieve the tension but his hand kept them spread.

"And?" he urged.

"I was...I was foolish," she breathed through clenched teeth.

She cried out, hungrily as Robb entered her, spreading her legs with his hips and he pushed into her with ease. Both let out sighs, like relief was washing over them though both were still rocking with desire. With each movement her hips rose up to meet his, each thrust met with a groan of pleasure shared between kisses and gasps. He kept his weight on his elbows and Selene felt her fingers tangle in his curls.

She remembered her wedding night, a few nights after even, when she'd felt a stirring somewhere inside of her. She had thought it was fear, then. Now she realized, as his thrusts quickened, that it was something entirely different. That ache was pleasure, a pleasure she had never known that had risen slowly, creeping into the depths of her mind until she was forced to face it head on.

She felt her cheeks flush as she was engulfed in their lovemaking and as she started to turn away, Robb captured her lips, keeping her from hiding her embarrassment. She did not muffle her cry of ecstasy when she felt her hips buck violently and when she glanced up, her husband wore a victorious smile until he too reached his culmination. His breaths were heavy and staggered as he leaned over her, placing his mouth over hers once more in a tender kiss, holding the side of her face with gentle hands. He looked down at her, then, eyes alight as they searched her own.

"I love you, my reckless, foolish and insufferable wife," he whispered and her eyes widened just enough that her expression was noticed by her husband who rolled onto his side, still holding her near as they both tried to catch their breath. "Do not worry," he assured. "I do not say it in hopes of hearing you say it back. But I simply cannot express what I feel any other way."

"But you were so displeased with me before," she reminded him and he laughed.

"My dearest Selene, I thought I told you there was nothing you could do to displease me," Robb answered.

"Then why-" she started but then paused. "You were teasing me, weren't you?" she asked.

"I couldn't very well ravish you in front of the court, now could I?" he laughed and she swatted at him. "I knew if I allowed myself a moment of indulgence at your return, that I would only embarrass us both with my reaction."

"You terrible man," replied Selene, laughing.

"Come now, let us not jest any longer. I would like to see my child," he requested, tugging gently at the shift.

Selene did hinder the thin cloth from exposing her as he pulled it and was soon left bare everywhere above her protruding bump. Robb's eyes landing on the change in her body and his eyes instantly softened as he placed his hand cautiously over it. His thumb grazed over her flesh and she watched him fondly, unable to hide the smile in the right hand corner of her mouth.

"I dreamed of this only this morning," he told her. "You were lying here in this bed and you'd had a nightmare. I was there to comfort you." She furrowed her brow, the description of his dream sounding oddly familiar. Both jumped slightly then at the slight jerk she felt within her and she sat up on her elbows, staring down her belly and then Robb.

"Did you feel it too?" she whispered and he smiled as he nodded.

"Our boy knows his father," Robb teased and Selene rose an eyebrow.

"And how do you know it is not a _girl_, Your Grace?" she questioned and Robb slunk further down, pressing his lips against her palm.

"It would not matter to me," he whispered and she let her hand linger awhile longer against his stubbled cheek.

They sat there like that for many moments, neither moving as they felt the child within her, shift with some enthusiasm before the feeling once again disappeared. Selene fell asleep in the warmth of Robb's arms, somewhere between comfort and bliss and for the first night in several weeks, she did not dream.

* * *

**ROBB**

As morning light poured through the parted curtains, Robb felt himself blinking heavily as he held Selene's bare body against his, his arm draped over her waist and lying gently atop where their child grew in her womb. He smiled again at the thought, of a child who he hoped would bear Selene's laugh. His eyes traveled over her body then and paused, his smile fading, as he noticed the pink jagged scar he had seen only once before. Above it was the scar he had heard of, the arrow wound that had pierced through her shoulder when she took Winterfell from Roose's bastard. But the wound below was foreign to him.

It was long, traveling from her shoulder blade down to her ribcage and Robb had never before noticed how harsh a wound it must have been. He glanced at Selene's eyes, still closed as she breathed steadily in a deep sleep. He then allowed himself to trace his fingers over the jagged raised flesh and furrowed his brow as he tried to work out how his wife had come by such a horrific injury.

"Greyscale," he heard her whisper and his hand jerked back, startled. "My mother's experiment in eradicating me of the ugly reminder," she explained.

"This was grayscale?" he asked in confusion.

"Once. A long time ago," she replied, turning over onto her back. "My mother thought the Maesters could remove it to improve my appearance for suitors. But, the consequence was my marred flesh. It would not matter if I had greyscale or not, now. I will always bear a scar just as ugly," she whispered.

"It is not so bad," he teased. "Now with this," he pointed out, grazing his shoulder over the scar on the front of her shoulder. "I must say you look more like a warrior than I."

Selene allowed him to kiss each one of her scars before he lifted her out of bed to help her dress. She had insisted that her maids would help her, but as she spoke Alys' name by mistake, he saw all playfulness leave her eyes. He dressed her in silence then and did not ask what happened to Alys at Winterfell. Robb had heard of a number of deaths during the Queen's escape and realized if it hadn't been for the direwolves, Selene might have been one of them.

Robb left her behind with Ysmay to finish readying herself for breakfast and walked down to the dining hall alone. He was not the first at the table, he realized, sitting down next to his brother who wore a very gloomy expression. Jon did not look up at first, his gaze fixated on his breakfast plate for many moments until Robb cleared his throat.

"Ignoring me now, are we?" he asked and Jon sighed, sitting up from his slumped over position with a frown.

"Are you still ignoring your wife?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and Robb snorted.

"It was a lesson in humility," Robb explained calmly.

"Not a very kind one," Jon scolded knowingly and Robb grinned.

"Do not worry, brother. I made it up to her," he alluded and Jon nearly choked on the wine in his goblet as Selene sat down next to her, giving Robb a look that silenced him.

The mood grew lighter between the three of them, though he was certain Selene did not smile once in the mixed company they were in and Robb decided it made him all the more fond of the many times she had smiled the night before. He thought at one moment he might force a smile out of her as he slid his hand onto her thigh beneath the table but before the grin could creep up in the corner of her lips, she pushed his hands away and took a long sip of her water.

Olyvar arrived with two letters and once again Robb was forced back into the reality that was war. Robb opened the first, finding that it was good news from the Vale. His Aunt Lysa had returned his letter, granting his request for a meeting at Winterfell to discuss an alliance. She pledged her neutrality until the meeting took place and even offered belated congratulations at the news of his marriage to Selene.

The second letter, however, was from his mysterious contact in the captiol, making it the third of its kind from the correspondence of Hawling Kross. This held more news of Lannister advancement as well as Tyrell ships. Tywin had pushed his men West, making camp at the Stony Sept. Robb's army was well placed and half of Selene's ships were secured at Lannisport. But still he worried over the information, wondering if it was a trap sent to induce confusion into his strategy.

"What is it?" Jon asked curiously when he caught sight of Robb's troubled eyes. He shook his head.

"It's the same thing, these damned letters from Hawling Kross and still I do not know what to make of them," Robb answered.

He was about to comment about the contents of the letter and the identity of the man in question when Selene accidentally tipped Robb's goblet and red wine spilled onto his lap. She stood up, in surprise and started wiping at his doublet before he too rose to his feet, grabbing her hands gently in his own and smiled.

"It's just wine, Selene," he whispered and she nodded, glancing once down at the parchment and he followed her gaze. "What is it?" he asked and she raised her eyes to meet his for only a moment before lowering her voice.

"Not here," she answered softly and he took her meaning, holding her hand in his own as he ushered her out of the hall.

They did not stop, Selene's lead determined as she held her composure through the corridors, nodding politely at people who passed before leading him somewhere out into the gardens that were covered in snow. She did not seem to care that she was shivering, nor did she mind that the snow was sprinkling her hair. Robb pulled her closer, rubbing his hands over her arms to warm her but she took a step back. The Selene before him was serious, replacing the playful woman he'd left upstairs. The look in her eye worried him but she reached for the letter in his hands and he did not waste a moment in giving it to her. As her eyes danced over it rapidly and her deep breath was followed by a heavy sigh.

"This is good," she whispered. "Knowing this will aid us in protection of our hold on the Westerlands."

"Yes, but the information is still unreliable. I know nothing of this man or whose kingdom he pledges his loyalties to. If I trust his knowledge, then I could be walking us all into a trap. This could be a simple diversion."

"It is not a diversion," she pronounced.

"A ready decision for someone who has only read the letter once," Robb, replied, his gaze unrelenting.

"I only need read the name to know the information is viable," she insisted. "See here, the way the name is signed with the emphasis on the loop in the 'W'?"

"Aye, but what does that-"

"Hawling Kross is a false name, that is why you have never heard of it. Hawling is my contact in King's Landing, and I would recognize his handwriting anywhere. I can assure you this information is genuine."

It made sense to Robb, finally, why a man who bore a name he did not recognize would write to him with such privileged information. The man would of course hope that Robb would in turn mention the name to Selene. She had mentioned her use of contacts across the continent, but never before had he thought there would be such need for secrecy. But if a false name was needed for her contact in the capitol, then the man was sure to be someone of importance.

"Who is it?" he asked. "Who is Hawling Kross?"

She looked around only once, stepping nearer to him as a woman walked by with a basket in her arms. Selene placed her hands on Robb's chest and the young woman blushed heavily with a smile as she passed. Neither spoke until the woman was assuredly out of earshot.

"I picked the name years ago when he and I were in correspondence after our betrothal," she spoke slowly and Robb racked his mind trying to recall her ever telling him if she had been previously engaged. "It was a silly name, so obvious that no one ever noticed. Too obvious I guess." She ran her fingers in a circle around the first part of the man's name to spell out the letters "H-A-W-" followed then by the man's initial in his surname. "K."

"Hawk?" Robb asked, confused and she nodded.

"Willas Tyrell is renowned for his hawking abilities," she explained and the realization was more surprising than he'd originally anticipated. "I thought the name was charming. Though, being the modest man he is, he hated drawing attention to it. He always thought we'd get caught."

"You mean to say Willas Tyrell, heir to Highgarden, is your contact?" he asked her and she placed her finger over his lips.

"Yes, but it is a very well guarded secret. No one must know it is him. You and I have been betrayed enough and I cannot have his identity compromised. If his father learned of Willas' loyalties to House Baratheon, he could be killed."

"And you were betrothed?" he asked then and her blue eyes rolled skyward.

"I tell you that you have an ally in House Tyrell and all you can ask is if he was to be my husband?" she questioned, mild annoyance masking her amusement. Robb did not answer, however and eyed her expectantly. "Yes, he and I were promised, from the time I was thirteen. I was brought to Highgarden several times in my youth with the intention of getting to know him and though I have little regard for him in the way of romance, I must say I find myself fond of his friendship. He was a match for my studiousness and knowledge of war. Neither of us believed we would have any need for such ideals in life. Tensions caused a delay in our marriage many times and then when my Uncle Robert died, Uncle Renly took Willas' sister as his bride."

"Willas must have cared for you, to risk his life for the sake of loyalty to you?" he suggested and he could see her lips curve slightly at each corner.

"Willas has a fondness for bold women, yes. But he and I were to be a political marriage. Friendship grew but nothing else ever seemed to flourish between us. At the time, he had his eyes set on a very fine Southern young woman who I cannot remember the name of now. But things weren't to work out between them. Not many see Willas as anything other than a cripple."

"I too recall him being crippled in his youth. Did it not occur to your father and the king that he might not be a suitable husband for you in that respect?" Robb asked simply out of curiosity and she shook her head.

"Willas was crippled, not-" she paused, heat rising to her cheeks and this time he allowed himself to smile. "-not impotent," she finished in a muffled whisper. "That being said, now that he has made contact, it means his intentions are to remain loyal to me and my father. If we can use him to help us outsmart the Lannisters, then power will continue to stay in our favor. People will flock to bow to you."

"And you," he reminded her.

"My father is still alive, Robb. If anyone is to take the crown, it will be him. He is not far from Winterfell now, just at Castle Black. Once we return North we can meet with him and his men to decide how to proceed next."

Selene had been relieved at the news of her father being alive. However, there had been some occasional glances that spoke another truth. Once, when he'd mentioned her father taking the Iron Throne she had a look of conflict in those eyes of hers. She had paced for many moments when he'd asked about it but she never answered. Now, she had that same look in her eyes and he meant to know why.

He placed his hand on her cheek, tilting her head upwards so their eyes were forced to meet before he asked, "What is it?"

"I am afraid I may not be the only one to know of Hawling Kross," she admitted quietly. "If I am right, it could be dangerous for us, for Willas as well."

"Who else knows?" Robb questioned.

"Melisandre," she answered but quickly added, "-perhaps, that is. I cannot be sure. Only that where she once welcomed the idea of my betrothal to the Tyrell family, she was quick to change her mind soon after I received secret correspondence from him by that name. Not long after my Uncle Renly was dead and the witch was spouting your name as a candidate for my hand."

"Marrying me was _her_ idea?" Robb asked curiously. "Why me?"

"The reasons could vary, but most likely because you are young. She thinks you would be easy to manipulate, no doubt. She underestimates my power, however, and simply sought to find away to sever my ties with Willas. None of which matters now. All that _does_ matter is how much she knows of my letters to 'Hawling' and what she plans to do with any information she gained. If she learned of my plans, well-" she paused, her eyes bright with worry. "Let us just hope that my father is not made aware. What Willas and I had planned could get us all killed."

Robb studied her face, trying to understand the meaning behind her words and what she could have planned that could possibly anger her father. If he knew one thing alone about Stannis Baratheon, it was that he loved his daughters. He'd seen it in his eyes the moment he'd handed Selene to Robb. Whatever Selene could have done, he could not imagine it would be enough to break that. But he asked anyways.

"What did you plan? With Willas. What information does Melisandre have that could possibly pit you against your father?"

She did not answer right away. In fact she seemed reluctant to even speak at all. But the moment their eyes met, he tried to will her with assurance.

"Our plan, Robb, was that when I became Queen, and Willas my consort, together we would liberate the kingdoms of tyranny. That there would no longer be a single ruler of Westeros, and that each kingdom would have it's own king. As it once was."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you readers! I hope you all enjoyed Robb and Selene's reunion! I was conflicted on this and when I finally wrote it out, I was pleased with the way it was written. Robb obviously was upset but he never intended to hurt Selene, simply to give her a little taste of her own medicine. That being said, I think he made up for it. The next chapter I want to try and do a flashback scene going back to Selene's youth. Please leave your thoughts on this chapter because I look forward to reading them. Thank you again to all those who read, reviewed, favorited and followed! Lola**


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

**SELENE**

The journey back to Winterfell had been a long one. The road full of constant obstacles which both Selene and Robb felt they could not ignore. Each day they'd grown closer and yet with each village they came upon, were unable to continue until some semblance of order was restored. Destruction was prominent, especially in the smaller towns they rode through. In the Winter Town, Roose Bolton had left cottages burned to the ground alongside late season crops which were destroyed.

Selene had not seen such destruction since she was a child, since a war long passed. Now this war - their war - it had ravaged the land and with each village they stopped at she was forced to bear the responsibility for the shambles laid out at her feet. There was little she could do in her condition and she was lucky that she hadn't already been confined to bedrest with all the fuss her maids and guards had made over her. Even Robb grew increasingly anxious each time she climbed upon a horse instead of a wagon.

She was much too large now for horses, she realized. It was all well by her, she thought, remembering the immense effort it took to even lift herself out of bed in the morning with her weight, let alone mount a horse when she was the size of a horse herself.

As fond as she was of her large belly, she did long for the day when Robb's child would come into the world so she could move about with much more ease.

She glanced over towards where he stood, hauling pieces of structures that were once villagers' homes. Everyone contributed something and while Selene was no longer able to lift planks of wood, she found her niche in helping look after the sick and wounded. Even now as she knelt next to a sick old woman, aiding her to drink water, she could see Gyff glaring at her.

"You ought not be so close to these people, My Queen," he hissed next to her, trying to lift her from the ground but she pushed his hands away. "You could fall ill yourself and put your child in danger."

"I have been around these people for the last several months on the road and still I feel as healthy and as strong as ever," she insisted. "My only ailment is my lack of sleep due to my child who chooses to spend his nighttime hours kicking about in my stomach with more enthusiasm than I ever thought possible for something so small."

"Better you be at the castle, resting, my mother says," a female voice added and Selene turned to see Robb's youngest sister, Arya, standing nearby with the boy who reminded her so much of her Uncle Renly. Selene's eyes darted back to the old woman as she eased her head back on the makeshift pillow.

Selene stood then, wiping her hands on the soiled apron around her waist. She did not speak as she ushered them out of the tent, into the cold air that rushed through the valley. Arya looked as defiant as she had in the last few weeks of their journey, her determination radiating through any childish facade she might have once had.

"If anyone should there, child, it be _you_," said Selene and watched Arya's face sour. "Your mother and sister could use your help running things while I'm out here. There is still much to do before the storms come. Winter is upon us now and with it, hardships for everyone. Isn't it time you found some responsibility of your own?"

"Like hell it is!" Arya muttered under her breath and Selene did her best to hide her smile.

"Selene is right, Arya," Robb's voice agreed from behind them and she spotted Robb entering the tent, wiping sweat from his brow. "Things are too busy out here without me worrying over where you are every minute of the day. Mother and Sansa could use your help." Arya's frown only deepened as she cross her arms over her chest. He then glanced to Selene. "It is time you joined them as well, My Queen."

"Certainly not, Robb," she contradicted with a frown. "There is still much to do here. I cannot leave these people unattended."

Robb held his hand up to interrupt her rising temper. He stepped closer to her, touching his hand lightly to her elbow as he spoke.

"They will be left in the capable hands of our men," he explained. "You are in no condition to continue on like this and winter will be upon us within the fortnight. I will not have my wife working outside the castle in the midst of blizzards whilst carrying our child."

"You exaggerate your point," Selene scolded him and watched Robb's mouth twitch at the sides. "And I recall you were extended an invitation to Newcastle at Lord Manderly's request. When _are_ expected in White Harbor?"

"The journey can wait until our child comes," he insisted again.

"That is still not for a few _weeks_ yet, Robb," she reminded him. "Newcastle is but two days ride. If you have an efficient journey, you will be back before week's end."

He squeezed her shoulder lightly. "Manderly can wait."

She didn't attempt to argue, seeing his mind would not be altered now. She mentally reminded herself to bring it up again later when they were in the privacy of his rooms where his mind might be more easily swayed.

In the meantime he allowed her the rest of the day in the camps before she was confined to the castle. And so, she returned to her duties and allowing Arya to assist her. The girl had clumsy hands but she was attentive and determined to help. Selene, in turn, did her best to be patient with her.

Selene let her mind briefly wander a bit farther North where her family would soon be setting out on their journey towards Winterfell. She delighted in the idea of seeing Shireen and Davos again and even, to a certain extent, her parents. She hadn't allowed herself much time to indulge in thoughts of them since Victarion had announced that they were alive. But for a moment she would. For a moment, as the birth of her child grew closer, she would allow the sentimentality to be the warmth in her heart.

As if on cue, she felt her stomach leap as her child fidgeted inside her womb. She paused, slightly caught off guard by the child's movements and she stepped back. Arya glanced up at her with concern in her furrowed brow.

"Is everything alright?" she asked and Selene nodded, cringing slightly as the movement turned into a slight pain.

"The babe is restless again," she whispered and excused herself back out into the winter air.

The tent was stuffy and stale with cramped bodies and as she stepped out into the snow well she welcomed the cold breeze on her hot cheeks. The pain grew slightly, inching up in her back and she gripped onto a nearby tree for balance. She hissed as it surged through her, gripping then at her abdomen as the sharpness moved. A hand on her back, startled her slightly.

"Selene?" he whispered and she looked up to see Benjen standing close and holding onto her as her hands trembled against the three. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing," she tried to lie but her voice was quiet and weak. "I just need a moment," she whispered.

Her vision was slightly blurred and the once delicious breeze that blew against her cheeks now gave her chills as she tried to pull her cloak tighter around her. Benjen was now supporting most of her weight as she attempted to keep herself from stumbling and he turned her towards him, looking down at her.

"Let me call for a wagon. We'll take you back to the castle where you can rest," he asserted. "You've been tending these people all morning. You must be tired."

"And these people have been suffering through the night," Selene retorted, firmness in her voice as she gripped onto his arm. "Truly, Benjen, it is nothing. If I could just sit for a moment. Perhaps some water."

"You there, boy!" Benjen shouted and a young man who was certainly no younger than Selene came over to where she was now sitting on a fallen tree trunk. "Go and fetch your Queen some water. And if you come across the King on your way, send him as well."

"Benjen!" she growled, trying to mask the howl of pain now rising in her throat.

He was not done gathering instructions, issuing orders to two of Robb's guards and one of the young women from the kitchens. They scurried off, hearing the urgency in Benjen Stark's voice and they were off searching for a wagon to aid their queen.

"Something is wrong," he whispered. "I can see it in your eyes."

She wanted to argue, to maintain that it was nothing but a simple passing ache of fatigue rushing over her but she was no longer certain that's all it was. Arya came rushing over as well, her hands buried in a rag and Selene shook her head.

"Go and tend to the woman, Arya. I will be well shortly," she lied, seeing the worry on the girl's face. "Please."

"No," the child argued. "I'll take you back up to the castle, as Robb just said."

Selene felt her frustration die out in a reluctant groan.

"Yes," she agreed. "Perhaps we should. Just for a little while at least. I can see that the kitchens make up something for you to eat."

"You'll do no such thing," a voice asserted, nearly out of breath. She sighed, knowing it was Robb who had rushed over, the young man holding a goblet of water which he offered to Benjen.

Robb was now crouched at her side, careless of his knees which were now buried in the snow and he held her up as Benjen handed her the cup. She took several sips, trying her best not to hiss out at the sharp pains as Robb eyed her nervously.

"Someone fetch us a wagon," he instructed, taking Selene's hand in his and she could not hide the tremble as it slipped from Benjen's to Robb's.

"I've already sent for one, they'll be here momentarily," assured Benjen. "Arya, go ahead of us and call Maester Luwin. Tell him the queen is in pain. Tell him-," he paused then, glancing over at Selene and Robb who were both looking up at him knowing what he would say next. "Tell him it could be the child."

Selene was shaking her head, ignoring the people who were beginning to notice their queen's condition and her eyes locked with Robb's.

"Nothing's wrong," she attempted with a smile that faltered as another barb shot through her. "He'll be alright, he will."

"Shh," comforted Robb. "Do not worry about that right now. Let us get you inside where it's warm and you can rest. You can fight me about it later." He smiled down at her, though Selene could see the fear in his eyes as he did so.

"Here, the wagon is coming. Help me lift her," Benjen instructed and she found herself clutching onto both men as they lifted her to her feet.

The wagon stopped a few feet away and from atop the wagon she saw Gyff climb down and rush to her side. She held up her hand to stay his panic but nearly fell as her knees gave out in the process. Robb caught her, holding her to him as she placed her face to his chest, trying desperately to keep her breaths steady. She whispered his name, confident he would not hear her over his instructions but the sound of it from her lips must have only increased his worry as he held her tighter.

She was lifted easily into the wagon and both Benjen and Robb stayed at her side as Gyff took control of the reigns. She laid back on her side, feeling that she was against Robb as they rushed up the hillside, over the moors and towards Winterfell. Benjen shouted out at Gyff, instructing him to slow down as they rode over several bumps and holes until they reached the path.

She glanced upwards and she could tell by the sting in her eyes that Robb would see her tears and she was not able to hide her face in shame. She swallowed hard, gripped his hand even harder and made an effort to speak.

"If it is to be him or me-" she started and he cut her off, his eyes wild now with the same fear she felt bursting from her bones. He shook his head.

"No, Selene."

"Just-" she whispered, placing her finger over his lips. "If it is to be your son, or me...," she begged. "...save our son."

* * *

**[FIVE YEARS PRIOR]  
****WILLAS TYRELL**

Overhead, the summer sun was beating down on them relentlessly, though neither one of them would complain. They walked at a conversational pace though he could see the impatience in Selene's strides. She much preferred to walk quickly, but he knew she walked at this pace to accommodate him.

It had been just over a year since his incident at the tourney. His leg was crushed under his horse during the joust against Oberyn Martell. To Willas, it had simply meant an end to tourneys and that he would likely never be of much use to his father's army in battle. But Willas found there was greater use than that of one's legs. As it happened, Willas was quite bright and had a knack for strategy and logic. If war ever came in his lifetime, he was sure to be useful on that end of things. Selene, too, was limited by her gender, and yet he had never met a girl with a mind so capable of matters such as war, as Stannis Baratheon's daughter.

She would make a good wife, he decided. Neither felt particularly strong feelings toward the other. Selene was a handsome girl of sixteen and it was likely that she would grow to be quite lovely one day when she became a woman. But there was nothing but friendship between them. Selene seemed utterly uninterested in romance and for that Willas felt a slight relief. It was easy to bond with someone without the pressure of an impending let down weighing over their necks. Willas was already in love and not with Selene. And despite all of this, they would make a good pair. Willas could not marry his first choice, and so he would marry Stannis' heir to appease their king.

They had been thrown together three months of every year since she turned thirteen, and for three years Willas watched her grow into an incredible force to be reckoned with. Perhaps he did not love her as he would have preferred, but he respected and cared for her as if she was his own family. It was a trust that had been slow to start, but once their relationship grew, there were few secrets the two did not share.

He couldn't remember which one of them had mentioned it first. It was a day like any other, a few months prior to that morning, some time just after breakfast as the sunlight filled the courtyards when she'd taken his arm and they walked easily through the gardens in silence. But once it was said, out loud, he knew they'd both been thinking of it for a long while.

The liberation of the seven kingdoms was something Willas had dreamed of as a boy. It was a foolish fantasy, he'd been told by his father when he'd asked why the kingdoms could not rule themselves. But as time wore on, Willas knew it was the greed of man, the power that came with the title of King of the Seven Kingdoms that would forever blot out any hopes of true peace in Westeros.

He'd never met anyone who considered such an idea until Selene. Until she'd whispered the idea as if it were some passing whimsy. But the moment the words were said their eyes had locked and Willas knew she did not speak in folly. Selene's growing mind had somehow stumbled upon the same ideas as his own.

"Have you given it any more thought?" she asked him as they walked and Willas discreetly peered over his shoulder. No one followed, not even their appointed chaperone who was sitting upon the balcony, showing little interest in the couple who rarely touched.

"You are certain of what you saw in your father's study?" he whispered and she nodded. "If your father plans to make accusations…"

"If what my father found out in King's Landing has any merit, then it would mean the crown would pass to our line after Robert. I can assure you he would not make wild accusations without cause for proof," she explained, barely above a whisper.

"Then if this is true, and Robert denounces the children and his wife, it would mean we might actually see our idea come to fruition." He could not help the leap of excitement that the thought brought him. He had been taught so long that there was no hope of true balance and peace in Westeros. But if Selene became queen, things could finally change.

"Has your father given you any reason to believe he will reevaluate our betrothal?" he asked then, taking her hand and placing it over his arm as his sister walked by, giggling with several of her friends at her side.

"None as of yet," she replied quickly. He felt her fingers twitch uncomfortably in his grasp. "In fact, I believe he is more eager than ever to have my Uncle Robert approve a wedding date as soon as the harvest. It would mean only a few more months before we are finally set to be married."

"And do you think the King will object?" he asked and Selene paused, uncertainty in her eyes.

"My uncle wants this marriage as much as we do. He sees the benefit. And if my father plans to use the information to garner any claim to the throne, he will want our houses sealed before my uncle can find any reason to dismantle it."

"Do you realize what this means?" he asked softly, pausing their steps as he took her hands in his. "If your father succeeds. You will be queen."

"Yes," she replied, sighing as she buried her eyes towards the ground. "Though there is still hope my father could have a son. My mother is with child," she explained and part of Willas' hope dwindled on her words.

"It is no matter. You and I will change this place, Selene; regardless of what happens. We will make a true difference to these people."

"And you still will have me?" she asked and Willas thought it might have been the first time she sounded young. "Even though you love another? You will sacrifice that for me?"

"You and I have never pretended this is anything more than what it is. I think that puts us in much better standing than half of the marriages in Westeros. And anyways, she will never love me. Not with this hindering me," he explained tapping at his leg with his crutch. "And anyways, I think it is you who is at the great disadvantage. Soon you will have the choice to marry nearly any man you wish. Perhaps even someone you love."

She scoffed.

"Oh, Willas," she chuckled lightly, though her mouth was still in a fine line on her refined features. "I doubt I shall ever love."

* * *

**ROBB**

Footsteps echoed through the corridor, his footsteps, as he paced back and forth. Selene had been confined to their chambers for nearly an entire day. No one seemed to know anything, even when he demanded to see Maester Luwin, he was met with reluctance.

It was his mother who finally gave him news, around the second hour of Selene's disappearance. She'd told him that Selene was in labor, though was careful to add that it had not come early enough to raise concern. But Robb knew her pains were not simply due to labor. Even his mother had fear in her eyes as she evaded Robb's gaze, explaining that it would be better for him if he would give her space.

Now two hours had turned into twenty and under Robb's eyes were dark circles as he paced outside their chamber doors, Selene's desperate cries echoing through the corridors. Staff gathered periodically, whispering prayers of the old gods as they stood around corners, careful not to disturb their king. Rickon took to pacing as well and both Grey Wind and Angus refused to leave the door as they whimpered and scratched, hearing their mistress in such distress.

Robb too had a difficult time waiting for news, listening to his wife's cries of agony as he stood there with helpless shaking hands at his side. He felt useless, cursing his inability to ease her painful shouts. Rickon grabbed at Robb's hand, looking up at his brother in concern and he lifted the boy off the ground and flattened his wild curls.

"She will be fine," Robb assured him, though he was certain it was more for himself. Rickon nodded distractedly as he stared at the door, placing his head on his brother's shoulder as Robb held him tightly.

Bran was asleep on his mother's lap and her eyes had been closed for some time as well. Sansa and Arya both busied themselves on a mindless task of their own, Sansa with embroidery and Arya whittling something that had yet to take form. Jon stood with his back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he rested his eyes. The only others who mirror Robb's anxiety were Gyff whose normal blank expression was replaced with a worried furrow in his brow and an anxious tapping of his foot. Benjen too seemed restless as he sat, then stood, then sat again when he found there was nowhere to go.

"Do you think it will be a boy?" Rickon asked wearily, to distract himself from the quiet and Robb gave his best smile to his youngest brother.

"I do not know," Robb answered honestly. "What do you think? Do you want it to be a boy?" Rickon shrugged.

"I suppose I don't much care," he answered and Robb felt a lightness at the boy's answer. "If it is a boy I shall teach him to fight and to be brave. And if it is a girl...well I think I should like to teach her to fight as well. So she is always protected. Do you think Selene would like that?"

"I think she would like that very much, Rickon," Robb replied, kissing his brother's forehead.

The sound of the door opening startled him and everyone turned then towards where Aida stood, desperately trying to hide the apron which was soiled in blood. Robb immediately place Rickon down and rushed towards her.

"Come quickly, Your Grace," she urged and Robb did not waste a moment in entering the room and finding Selene, her eyes closed with her head back, damp with her own sweat.

Robb was at her side immediately as Aida shut the door and he took his wife's hand in his. He feared the worst as he gazed over her frail, unmoving form. She did not stir when he touched her and Robb began to feel a panic rising within him as he squeezed her tighter. But then his heart leapt as her eyes fluttered open. She did not try to speak at first, only let her fingers grip hers with what little strength she had as he placed his lips against the flesh of her hand. He glanced then to the Maester, his back was turned gripping something in his arms.

"What's going on?" Robb asked, his voice catching in his throat as he spoke.

Luwin turned and Robb could see the small child, bare in his arms as he was bounced gently. No sounds came from the infant and Robb could feel his heart racing at Luwin's downtrodden expression.

"The Queen will be fine," he whispered. "She will need rest, the baby came sooner than expected. She has been through a great deal this last day." Robb kissed her fingertips again, his eyes closing at the news.

He thought perhaps that it was relief but he could still feel the dread pulsing through his veins. It was good news, he reminded himself. Selene was safe from harm.

"And the babe?" he asked next and in his throat an ache so large grew that he could hardly form the words.

Luwin's eyes did not meet his king's and the answer was enough that Robb felt something sink deep inside of him. But his heart was not shattered until he heard Selene's broken sob, she too had seen Luwin's response, their lifeless child in his arms and Robb reached for her, sitting upon the bed so he could pull her gently into his arms as her grief spilled out onto his tunic.

"Would have been a son, Your Grace. A handsome boy," he whispered but Robb was shaking his head.

A boy, he thought. A son. His son, no. Selene's son. Their handsome boy of Stark and Baratheon blood who they would never hold, never name. He did not know if he wanted to shout or to cry. But he knew the agony of the news was far too much for Selene to continue to face.

"Take him," he stammered through his own heartache. "Take him from her. Please, she can bear no more."

"Yes, Your Grace," Luwin whispered and he wrapped the child in cloth before starting towards the door, Aida in tow and Selene's sobs only grew, staring after the child as he was taken away from them both.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Robb, it's my fault. I knew this would happen," she choked.

"Don't say that," he pleaded, on the verge of his own tears. "Don't think that, not even for a moment."

He kissed her hair, stroking it as she held him and he did not let her go, only kept her there, held her tightly against his chest for fear that perhaps if he let her go, he might lose her as well.

"But your son-" she started. "I have failed you so greatly."

Robb felt anger, but not at his wife. No, he felt angry that he could not form the words to comfort her in that moment, to tell her that she had not failed him on any account. But his voice was strangled, suffocated by the mourning he felt in his chest, by the fear that was clutching his heart as tightly as he clutched at her.

And just when he thought he might gather the strength to cut down her words, both of them were paused by a sound that ceased her sobs to silence.

Shrieking...no...crying. It was crying. Loud, strong lungs of a child burst through the open door and into the room. Robb looked up quickly, his eyes darting towards the empty doorway that was soon filled by Luwin, this time with a crying bundle that fidgeted in the old man's arms. Robb was not sure if he saw clearly through his blurred vision, but was sure he saw tears in the Maester's eyes as well.

"Your Grace," the man gasped. "Your son."

The man walked towards them, leaning over to place the crying babe in his father's arms. Robb was forced then to let go of his wife but stayed very near to her as he helped her sit up in the bed, both staring at the child in awe. She still sobbed, and Robb's tears only increased at the sight of the small thing in his arms, the pink faced boy who belted out for the world to hear.

He cried but he also laughed, laughed in such relief and pride as his eyes took in the sight of his son. He glanced then to Selene who wore such a look of disbelief that he was sure she might sob harder. He then placed the boy in her outstretched hands and she held him as if he were the most fragile thing in the world.

And slowly, then all at once, a smile crept up onto her face and in it there was something Robb had only seen glimpses of. She was overwhelmed with it, her tears transformed from sorrow into the deepest emotion he had ever felt and he saw it there in her blue eyes.

It was love he was witnessing, pouring out over this small human being she could not tear her eyes from.

"Look at our boy, Robb," she whispered. "He his…" she paused, unable to articulate the word she was searching for.

"He is perfect," Robb supplied for his wife.

"Should I call your family, Your Grace?" Aida asked and before Selene could answer Robb shook his head.

"No. I would have a moment with my wife and son," he called out to them without taking his eyes from Selene who was beaming with joy through her red eyes.

Both Luwin and Aida left the room, this time closing the door behind them, allowing the king and queen time alone with the child who was no longer crying, but trying to find comfort in his mother's arms as he rested his eyes. He was small but no smaller than Rickon or Bran had been, Robb recalled. His brave wife had brought this perfect little human into the world and he would forever love her for it. But how could he show her, he thought. How could he show her in that moment how much joy she had brought him? And as he stared at their son, and then his wife, he suddenly knew.

"Steffon," he whispered and it was just enough of a distracted to lull her attention back to him, but only slightly.

"What did you say?" she asked, sniffling slightly, tearing his eyes from the boy, with reluctance.

"We'll call him Steffon, a fine name don't you agree? Now no one will forget his is both Stark _and_ Baratheon," he asked her and her eyes, blue and bold, were now wide with disbelief.

But then they were very full of something else as she pulled her hand from beneath their son and placed her palm against his cheek. She stared at him for many moments, her eyes searching his and her lips curving up as more tears fell down her cheeks.

"Does this displease you?" he asked, worried that perhaps he had upset her and she shook her head quickly.

"Not at all," she whispered then and he felt his heart leap from his chest at the sincerity in her words. "Nothing you could do would ever displease me."

And with her heartfelt words she pressed her lips to his and the outpour of love between them in that moment would be forever remembered by Robb as the moment he fell in love with Selene Baratheon. And one day, when he was several years older and their son would ask, she would tell them it was the moment she fell in love with him as well.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you readers, my sweet and patient readers. I have been writing some original work, furiously, and had little time to give this the attention it deserved. I hope you are pleased with the latest installment. Thank you to everyone who has read each chapter, favorited, followed and of course my lovely reviewers who never cease to amaze me with your kind words. I dedicate all my work to you all….love you guys! Lola  
**

**9/9/15 Update: It has come to my attention that some readers thought this was the end of the story. I assure you it is not. :)**


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen**

**RICKON**

There was nothing quite as serene as a newborn child, Rickon decided as he watched his infant nephew sleeping in his elder sister's arms. The babe did not fidget nor cry, simply slept in a placid state as if the gods themselves could not wake him should they wish it.

Rickon did not leave Sansa's side as she walked around the solar, rocking baby Steffon to sleep after his afternoon meal. Selene was reluctant to leave her son alone for very long, but preparations were being made to restore Winterfell to a more efficient state and whilst Robb was away in White Harbor, she was in charge.

She made easy work of it, or at least that's how it seemed to Rickon. The halls were buzzing with servants and soldiers alike, eager to do her bidding. And Rickon was left with a duty as well, the most important duty according to Selene. He was in charge of Steffon and making sure he was the happiest of babies.

Rickon took his job very seriously even though it was Sansa who held him with a small smile on her lips as she stared down fondly at the child in her arms.

"I'm not sure he should sleep so much," Rickon announced in a hushed whisper causing Sansa to look up from Steffon, to her brother. Her grin widened.

"It's alright, Rickon. Babies need much sleep because they are so small."

"But if he sleeps too much now, he may not sleep when it is night. Selene needs her rest as well."

"You, dear brother, are the kindest soul I know," she teased him though Rickon found nothing funny about the fact that Selene was already losing more sleep than necessary over her work. "Our sister, the Queen, is a strong woman. And besides, with you looking after our nephew, I doubt she will lose even the slightest of sleep."

Rickon shifted slightly, watching Steffon's tired eyes twitch slightly as he dreamed. What did babies dream about, Rickon wondered.

"Does something else worry you?" Sansa asked curiously and Rickon saw her brow furrow.

He did not want to admit that he was scared. He couldn't be scared. He was no longer the baby of this family, he realized. He had to be brave for Robb and Selene and his mother and now most especially for baby Steffon who liked it when Rickon sang him to sleep.

Grey Wind was sitting near Sansa's feet, watching his young master despite his previously being banned from the solar. But once Robb and Selene saw his desperation to watch over the child, they allowed him to follow to his heart's content. Angus was concerned with following his mistress, conflicted often by the strange sounds of a child in its bassinet.

Rickon was meant to be helping his Uncle Benjen ready his things to return to the Wall, but he had objected that he was far too busy here with Sansa. No one had contradicted him.

He did think it was awfully slow, the rate at which babies grew. It had been a mere month since Steffon's birth and still he seemed small. He thought the time would pass more quickly, that he would be able to play with Steffon, teach him things like walking and how to hold a spear. But still he was an infant and he wanted very little to do in the realm of playing. He heard Robb say that he had the temperament of his mother and Rickon knew he'd meant it as a jest.

But Selene was not as cold as she was when he'd first met her. Even then, the day Selene had come to Winterfell, he knew her heart was a warm one. She just needed coaxing and he had taken it upon himself to do just that. But what he feared now was what was to come.

"Do you think she'll leave us?" he asked Sansa in response to her question.

"Why would she leave us? This is her home now, remember?" Rickon did remember but he still could not help the dread he felt inside of him.

"Her father is coming here and what if he wants her to go with him now? What if she wants to be with her family?"

"We _are_ her family, Rickon," she replied with a smile, rubbing Rickon's curls with her free hand. "She is Robb's wife and Steffon's mother. She is our sister. She would not abandon us now."

Rickon wanted to trust his sister's words. Sansa never lied to him, not even when she thought it might spare his feelings. And now seemed no different. So he tried his very best to push the worry from his mind despite its insistence. And for a moment, he allowed himself to believe that things were going to be alright, despite the feeling in his gut that something bad was about to happen.

* * *

****BENJEN****

"I still don't understand why you feel the need to go back," she grumbled as she folded his tunic and placed it in his pack. "Of course you have your honor to think of," she mocked. "But Robb has sent them one hundred men. Can't they spare you for the sake of your family who very much need you here?"

Benjen laughed as she talked quickly, anxiously and mostly with frustration as she unpacked and repacked his things when she found how he'd shoved them in a pack to take with him to the Wall. Selene had been fussing over him since the sun rose, carefully overseeing that the correct meals were prepared for his journey and finding as many ways as she could to slow this entire process to ensure he would not be able to leave until dawn the next morning.

For anyone else he might have found it infuriating. But Selene's reluctance to see him go he could only find endearing.

"You of all people should understand the meaning of an oath. It was all of your promises that got us into more trouble than I'd care to ever be in again."

"Yes, you keep complaining about our adventures but you and I both know you will have no shortage of stories once you return to your brothers on the Wall. But as we are speaking of oaths, don't think I didn't notice the woman sneaking out of your chambers this morning," she scolded and Benjen did his best not to flush at her words. He smiled. It was true he had broken his oath, if only for a night when he gave into his temptation to lie with a woman once again. "If it is women you want, Benjen, I will summon you all the Northern beauties you can stand if it will make you stay."

"Do not tempt me, My Queen," he laughed. "Come, walk with me a while in the Godswood. I cannot stand another minute with you fussing over my belongings."

She did not smile but she agreed, leaving the blanket, unfolded near the pack as she followed.

They both wore cloaks, though he was surprised at how quickly Selene began to adapt to the Northern winds. Her cheeks were pink as the wind brushed over them and despite her desire for independence and distaste for most human contact, he grabbed hold of her hand and wrapped it around his arm as they walked through the snow. She did not move it.

The storms had let up that day and seemed as though they would settle for a few days. It would allow him to travel back to the Wall during its reprieve. He did not know what awaited him there. He could not pretend that the repercussions of his actions would be easy to bear on his journey back. His decisions would have consequences, those which he was not ashamed to say he feared. But he had to face it even if it meant he would be back at Winterfell facing the other side of Robb's sword.

"My brother would have liked you," he told her, distracting his solemn thoughts. "He never knew you as a woman but had he the opportunity, I believe he would have found a great fondness in accepting you as his daughter."

"I knew him as a girl and I admired his greatness for many years after that. I think even my father might have admired him."

"Yes, many did. Ned was a good man, the best of us. He did not deserve his fate."

"As I am sure you do not deserve yours," she whispered and he realized she too had come to the conclusion he had attempted to shield her from. She paused, turning towards him with serious eyes. "You have served the Night's Watch long enough, risked your life for years as First Ranger in battle beyond battle with the wildlings. Stay with us. I will protect you," she insisted and he grinned, taking her hand in his. "Let me pardon you and reinstate you to your rightful place in our family."

"If you are to be Queen of the Iron Throne one day, as I assume you will be, you must not make concessions based on emotion. I made my choice long ago, just as I made my choice to abandon my post to help my family. I know the consequences and I will do what I must to show them that my loyalty is as strong as ever."

"I cannot sway you?" she asked.

"In fact, I think if anyone were to sway me, Selene, it would be you. Which is why I must beg you that you do not. Do not ask me to stay. Because I am not as strong as my brother was. I thought I would never find a reason that would pull me from my duty to the Watch. But you have done so. You have reminded me of the joys of family and the love I hold for all of them."

Selene looked away, unable to take the praise and thanks she deserved for helping Benjen remember there could be happiness in the world. Things had darkened for him once, long ago. He thought if he explained it, perhaps she could come to understand.

"There was a time when I would have taken your offer," he explained. "A time when there was another very spirited young woman who was the pride of Winterfell."

"Your sister?" she asked and he nodded.

"You remind me of her." He could not say her name, still. Years had passed and yet again he was haunted by the simple sound of his dead sister's name. "She has a fierce spirit. Wolfsblood, my father once told us. My eldest brother, Brandon, he had it as well. But Ned and I were different, and when our sister was taken from us, we both handled it differently. Ned did his duty, came home and took over Winterfell. Had his new family, a son and a beautiful wife."

"And you?"

"I ran," he admitted, realizing that it might have been the first time he'd ever said it aloud. Perhaps Ned knew, of course he did, Benjen thought. But it was never spoken. "I was only sixteen when I took the Black. Everyone knew it was an honor, a duty of which a Northman could be proud of. I told myself the same thing, that I would be doing my family a service. That I would bring honor to the Stark name. But the truth was, I could not face my brother. Ned had seen things, fought to avenge our father, our brother and then save our sister. And he failed. And meanwhile I was stuck here, meant to endure it all and I could no longer bear this place. This cage that had kept me from helping my family. I was."

"And if you had been lost as well. Can you imagine the pain that would have brought your brother?"

"Yes, you are probably right," he agreed. "And yet, somehow things changed. I ran from Winterfell and sought solace at the Wall. It was hard and not at all what I thought it would be. But somehow, I forged my own path. And it is a path, good or bad, that I must honor."

She stared up at him, this time letting her eyes meet his own and Benjen thought of Lyanna. His sister for whom he would have done anything. And now as he looked at Selene he felt the shame welling up inside of him. His cowardice could no longer hide behind a black cloak and he knew she could see him for what he was.

"Then I release you, Benjen Stark, from your duty to Winterfell. From your duty to me. But should you ever desire your place here once more, I shall welcome you," she whispered and she even attempted a smile for his benefit though he thought perhaps there was something sadder behind her reluctant gaze and high chin.

He knelt down, one knee in the snow and he let her tower over him as he took her hand in his. He placed it to his lips, like the first time he'd met her and then placed the back of it to his forehead to show his respect for her.

"Thank you, My Queen," he answered, standing slowly and taking note of the figure standing behind them, waiting as the snow came down lightly around him.

He knew the man was waiting for Selene and though he did not recognize the man, he saw recognition in Selene's expression that said she would be safe with him. She gazed up at him once more and he nodded once before taking his leave.

Behind him Selene's gaze surely followed, like Lyanna's watchful eyes weighing heavily upon his back, growing lighter and lighter with each step he took in the opposite direction. Until soon, he felt free.

* * *

**SELENE**

Benjen's footsteps were loud in the snow, but gradually disappeared as Selene looked after him in disappointment. She had few people in her life who she could truly find herself at ease with and he had become one of them. And now, in his place, was another. The man she quite possibly trusted above all others.

"Davos," she whispered as he walked towards her and she allowed him to embrace her, her chin falling comfortably on his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his back. "You are truly here?"

"In the flesh, what's left of it anyhow," he retorted and she grinned at the familiarity in his warm voice.

"When the news came, of the Blackwater-" she started, pulling back so she could see his eyes. "I knew they were wrong. I knew you were alive. All of you."

"Had I learned much earlier, I would have found a way to write to you," he expressed and she allowed him to see her grin.

"I heard the news of your lessons. Tell me, have you brought my sister with you?" she asked him and his playful eyes fell.

"I am afraid I could not, Princess," he whispered and her brow furrowed in confusion.

"What is it?" she questioned immediately. "Is she well?"

"Well enough, yes. Though I hate leaving her anywhere near that Red Witch," he muttered and she could feel the tense feelings returning that had been hidden many months ago.

"Why have they not joined you?"

"Your father wished me to bring you a message. A message, of a nature which I must admit I was reluctant to bring."

She felt her stomach sink as she waited for his words. A feeling of joy and elation was now replaced with a more familiar one, one in which she had grown accustomed to from time spent with her father.

"Tell me," she spoke, taking in a deep breath.

"He tasked me with telling you he will not visit Winterfell. That instead, he wishes to parley with you a half day's ride north of here."

"Parley?" she ground out. "Speak plainly, Davos. What is it my father wants?"

"An agreeance of terms," he admitted. "Terms which he demands you accept or therefore relinquish your birthright."

"What?" she gasped. "I have done everything he has asked and more."

"It is not a matter of what you have done, Princess," he comforted, taking her hands in his. "Your father has grown..." he paused but the word he was searching for she already knew.

"Mad?" she provided. "She has driven him to this, that she-devil temptress. What has she said?"

"After the failure of the Blackwater what could she say to save her own neck? She and her bloody prophesies. She wormed her way into his thoughts, made him believe all of our failure was because of our alliance with the Starks. Your marriage, she said, made us weak and therefore he must purify the kingdoms, take back the North."

"He will not have it!" she found herself shouting and she could see the surprise in his eyes at her reaction. "He will not take it. What I have fought for. It is mine and Robb's and he will _not_ have it." She whispered it this time, a more ghostly sound than her previous shout.

"I told him you would respond this way. And he sent me to you, to tell you he only wants peace."

"And you believe him?"

"I believe he wants peace in our kingdoms, Selene. But I do not believe his means will be justified. I fear for his plan, for what Melisandre will have him do to acquire his throne."

"Then you know I can neither relinquish my throne in the North, nor my birthright to the Iron Throne. If I let the North fall to such a cowardly bargain, those people will never fight for me. Never again. Nor will they fight for him."

"And what will you have me do?" he asked then, taking hold of her shoulders. "Will you go to war with a madman?"

"I will do what I must to protect my people. To protect my family," she paused then at the lump in her throat. "I must protect my son's birthright now," she whispered and she saw his eyes widen.

"You," he struggled to say and Selene saw that it was joy in his eyes. "You have a son?"

"Yes, Davos. A beautiful boy called Steffon and he will be King in the North one day, as is his destiny. So you can see why I must refuse my father." Davos sighed, glancing down towards his feet as he shifted and she could see that there was more he was not telling her. "What secret plagues you?"

"It is a not a secret, My Lady, so much as it is a concern. Your father will threaten you. We both know his ways. While I cannot advise you to agree to his terms, I would urge you to go to him, for the sake of your sister. Let us release her from the danger she is in and from there we will figure out our next plan."

She wanted to go but she could only think of Robb's reaction if he returned to find her gone. He would return home by morning, but if something went wrong during the parley, she would leave Winterfell and her family in danger. He had forgiven her for her misdeeds in the past, running in the direction of danger at every turn. Now she was in the process of doing it once again and this time she was not sure if he would be so forgiving under these circumstances.

But she was Queen in the North and once again there was a threat at her door. She could not ignore it, even for the sake of her husband's feelings.

"I will go to him," she whispered. "Come, meet my son while I gather my guard."

* * *

**SELENE**

It was a half day's ride to the camp and the distance made her wary as Winterfell grew smaller and smaller on the horizon behind her. Her stomach was in knots the further she was from Steffon and she wondered after an hour had passed if she would be better off turning back around and ignoring her father's request for parley.

But she urged on, sure that whatever madness her father had been talked into could be avoided if she could only get him alone.

Davos lead them out at the edge of the Wolfswood just south of Long Lake. She thought of the Greatjon's home, another half day's ride northeast of where the encampment was and she wondered briefly if her father had paid the keep a visit. She'd left the old brute in charge while she was away, hoping that Robb would not tarry in his return. She had sent him a letter detailing what she knew and it would have likely reached him on the road earlier that afternoon. Now it was nearly dusk and she watched the flags blow harshly in the wind with her father's sigil blazing through the s now that littered her hair.

"Are you certain?" Jon asked from her left and she glanced up, pulling the reigns of her horse so they stopped gently.

"I don't have a choice," she reminded him. "Only I can appease my father's temper. I cannot allow him to threaten our people. Our home."

Jon nodded once, his gaze then diverted back towards the camp and they watched as a rider was dispatched to greet them. She would not get any closer without assurances for her men. She had allowed herself a small guard, Gyff and Jon on either side of her with Brienne on her heels. Benjen had insisted he accompany as he was going North anyways, and Davos would protect her if it came down to it. Six other swords were scattered in various positions around her. She stayed in the center, protected as they watched two riders approach, one carrying the symbolic white flag.

"Greetings from His Grace, King Stannis Baratheon. He welcomes you, Princess, and wishes that I escort you and two of your men into our camp," the boy said and Selene though he couldn't have been older than fifteen. A kinder woman would have smiled. But Selene was not quite so kind.

"You can tell my father that all of my guard will be welcome, or we will have ridden a very long distance for nothing," she informed him.

The boy stared at her, confused by her command and looked to the boy at his side, another young man who looked just as equally perplexed by her disregard for their king's command. They looked then not to Selene, but Davos for help and the man simply smiled.

"This is Selene Baratheon, boy," Davos reminded. "Do as she says."

They both turned quickly, riding back to the camp and Selene did not waste a moment as she urged her mare slowly in their same direction. Gyff reached over, pulling her reins towards him and halting her movements.

"Where are you going?"

"To camp, Gyff. I would have thought that was obvious," she replied boredly, snatching back the reins and gripped them tightly.

"Should we not wait for word from your father?" Jon asked, taking up Gyff's concern.

"Who is your Queen, Gyff?"

"You are, Lady," he replied without hesitation and she smiled.

"Then let us ride to camp. Trust me."

He did trust her or if he didn't he did not voice his concern again as he nodded and followed her as their horses tread through the snow. There was just enough room for their horses and she had six of her men stand guard whilst the others followed into the crowds. They were anxious, standing close to her as they watched the Baratheon soldiers pause and then part to make her a path. It was only a few moments before she spotted bright red amongst a sea of armor and her defenses rose to a level she had not felt since departing Pinkmaiden.

"Princess Selene," the Red Woman beamed, her voice projecting throughout the crowds so that everyone was forced to stop and look.

"Melisandre," was Selene's simple greeting and silently relished in the way the woman's face soured at the informality of Selene's words.

"Come," she answered tersely. "Your father has been expecting you." She looked up as her men began to follow and she held up her hand.

"I'm afraid only one may join you and Ser Davos," she instructed.

Selene turned towards her guard and her eyes immediately landed on whom she sought.

"Lady Brienne," she summoned and the tall woman wasted no time in following, directly at Selene's back as they both ducked into the tent.

She did not see her father at first, but instead saw her sister and she fought herself to keep her composure as joy flooded into her and she let Shireen run towards her, arms open wide as she wrapped them around her older sister's waist. Selene did not allow herself to cry with happiness, but did indulge in a warm embrace, mirroring her sister's stature. She thought she might have even smiled somewhere hidden in her sister's hair.

"It's really you!" Shireen laughed and kissed Selene's cheek. "I have missed you."

"As I have you," Selene answered honestly though scolded herself when she sounded a bit terse. She cleared her throat and grabbed her sister's hand in her own, gazing up at the two figures watching them closely in front of her. "Mother," she greeted the first and wondered if time apart had somehow made the woman more haggard than before. She then let her eyes wander up towards the taller of the two and her chin rose instinctively. "Father."

"Hello Selene," he answered and she saw something flicker behind his eyes as he said it. Whatever it was disappeared just as quickly as it had revealed itself and he too cleared his throat in a manner that made her almost laugh at the resemblance. "Shireen, leave us please."

"But father…" the girl protested and Stannis shot her a look that silenced her.

"Do as I've asked. Go," he repeated, more forcefully this time though his eyes never left Selene's.

Selene squeezed her sister's hand to let her know it was alright to go and reluctantly, the girl's small, balmy hand released her sister's and Selene was left to chill that hit when it was gone. The silence left behind was awkward and everyone seemed to shift uncomfortably except perhaps Brienne. The woman stood steadfast at Selene's side and she knew the woman would be filled with rage at the sight of Renly's murderer. But neither displayed the anger they truly felt. Both women displayed nothing but their unyielding demeanors.

"You called me here as a matter of urgency. If you wish to talk to me then please, do so." She announced and her father watched her for only a few seconds as he stepped forward and approached her so that he was within arm's reach. He reached out then, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"You look well," he realized and though his words and touch might have been endearing, his delivery was as as stale and stiff as she had always remembered. "Different, but well."

"I have have born a child," she explained, her head high and watched as her father's eyes widened slowly. "A son."

She did not mean to glance at her mother. In fact she had actively tried to avoid it but the woman's movements were that of exaggerated disbelief. Selyse covered her mouth to mask her dismay but it was evident in her eyes. Her daughter had done what she herself could not. Brought a boy into this world with Baratheon blood.

"A son, you say?" Stannis replied and there was almost a hint of pride but she chose to ignore it as if perhaps she had imagined it.

"He is called Steffon. After your father," she replied and watched as the invisible knife twisted slightly in her mother's open wound of disdain.

"A fine name," he pronounced quietly.

"Yes, but his surname is Stark, Your Grace," Melisandre interrupted from Stannis' side and Selene watched the slight warmth in her father's eyes fade as if she had sucked it out with her own lips. "A Stark son means that the North has an heir."

"Yes," he managed to say as he backed away from Selene, leaving her shoulder as cool as her hand had been in Shireen's absence. "Yes it is that which we must discuss," he said as if he was reminding not only Selene, but also himself.

It was then that she could see for the first time that her father looked quite old.

"I am told you wish to dissolve your alliance with House Stark," she remarked. "Joffrey is dead, I know you received the news as well. It is only a matter of time before they fall to our wrath. Together we can take back what is ours."

"What is mine," he corrected and she frowned at the darkness clouding over him.

"You are aware, that the King in the North has reigned victorious in his campaign over the Westerlands and is gaining the support of the Vale as we speak."

"The Vale is not his to take," Stannis interrupted, the anger rising slowly in his tone.

"You are right," she allowed. "It is mine."

"You think you are clever, don't you?"

"If I am it is because you taught me to be," she jeered and watched his jaw clench. "Robb and I spent months under the impression that you were dead and we have fought every second to ensure that we restore the Baratheon bloodline to the Iron Throne, _just_ as you wished. Now that we are poised to take it together you want to destroy this alliance that you have built. That _I _have built. I have _bled _for this alliance and you would see it fall like filth at your feet."

"It is this alliance which has lost your father his throne," Melisandre interjected and both Stannis and Selene looked to the woman and shouted out at the same time.

"Silence!" they both commanded and there was a minor shift from Brienne at her right.

"You would betray your _word_ and your _honor_ as a Baratheon for what? To have the North? You think they will fight for you if you kill Robb. If you kill me?"

"Don't be stupid, Selene. What good will killing you do? You are my heir," he reminded her as if she could have forgotten. As if she really was stupid.

But she wasn't.

"The North will fight for me again. For their Baratheon Queen who saved them from the Ironborn. Who took back the North when Freys and Boltons betrayed them. You have shown them your strength."

"And if I betray their king then what loyalty will they see in their Queen? In the King on the Iron Throne who could not keep his word?"

"The North is mine," he hissed. "You have won it for _our_ cause. Do not forget that. What I offer you is your freedom. You never wanted this life. To marry Robb Stark."

"I am his wife. The mother of his child."

"Both of little consequence," he answered boredly and she could tell that somewhere in his madness it made sense to him. "I am the King and I will make it so it never happened. You can come home, to your family. Take up your place as the future Queen of the true kingdoms and lead my ships as your own."

"I have my own ships," she ground out at his weak consolation. "And I will not leave my husband or my son."

Stannis stared, his lips tight in a line as he watched Selene no longer with the mild annoyance she had been used to. Now she witness the fury of a madman. His eyes ready to bulge at her defiance. But she would not stand down. She would not allow her father to bully her.

"You do not want to defy me, Selene," he whispered, stepping towards her once more.

She did not know if he saw Brienne's subtle shift in her direction but she held her hand up just enough that the giant woman paused at her command.

"I don't, father," she agreed. "But I will not agree to these terms. I will not betray those loyal to me, my men and my family, so you can drag them back under your tyranny. You are changed."

"War changes a person, as I am sure you know."

"Yes," she bit back. "I _do_ know. I have seen what war can do. The cruelties of man and I will not allow these kingdoms to be subjected to yours."

"I am disappointed in you. This is not the daughter I raised."

"No, she is gone," she muttered.

"Perhaps," he hissed. "But her indiscretions can still haunt her."

"Your threats are empty."

"Are they?" he asked curiously. "What of Allard Seaworth, your beloved sea rat?"

"Your Grace," Davos attempted but the man's warnings were not sufficient to halt his king and Selene felt dread rising in her throat.

"Your King in the North may be glad to be rid of you when I express certain concerns over the legitimacy of your child."

"He would never believe such lies," she ground out, feeling her heart clenching, bile rising in her throat. She choked it back.

"Lies are they? I have several men willing to attest to seeing you in young Allard's embrace at Seagard. How old exactly is your child?"

"Lady, I would suggest we leave," Brienne whispered at her side, but Selene once again held up her hand.

"I have him, you know, ready to testify to your Northmen that their Queen is nothing but a whore," he spat, his eyes wild with hatred and there was a brief moment where Selene felt the hair rise on the back of her neck in fear. "See how your men fight for you then, when they learn that you bore them a bastard prince."

"This is how you wish to convince me to come back? To leave my people? With vile threats based on lies!?"

"I would much prefer to welcome you home with open arms," he contradicted. "Come home, relinquish your ties to House Stark and I will let the boy live. I'll even let Stark live if he kneels before me. I imagine you can convince him." Selene felt her jaw clench as he spoke. "Leave and revoke your Northern loyalty and your husband and son can live in peace. Otherwise, I promise you I will lay their heads at your feet and litter the snow in Stark blood."

She felt the sickness rise once more. She could see that he was not a man to be reasoned with. Gone was the man of wise intellect. The Master of Ships and a man unmatched in strategy. Left behind was a man who lusted after only a crown, a seat of iron forged in blood and willing to watch his own flesh pave the way to his glory.

Beside him was the snake, the temptress who even now stood near him, whispering words of encouragement, his mind wrapped delicately around her finger. The puppet king, dancing to the tune of the Red Witch whose vendetta was still unclear. She almost felt bad for her mother. It would be no time at all before Melisandre convinced her father that the woman had no more worth. In fact, she thought it was a wonder that her mother was still standing at all.

"Breaking the kingdoms is what lost me the Blackwater," he said in a ghostly whisper. "Now I will take them back by whatever means necessary."

"Then you will do it without me," was her final answer and she turned from him, Brienne closely behind and she rushed out into the snow, ignoring her father's outrage.

"Selene!" he could hear Davos shouting after her and she did not stop until she had reached her horse. She started to mount when his hand stopped her by her arm. Brienne and Gyff both started towards him.

"No," she told them, pausing their movements and then she looked to Davos. "I can't stay. You understand. This man. This isn't my father."

"I do understand," he agreed, taking her hands in his and she did not show surprise when she felt the parchment slide against her palm.

"Keep Shireen safe," she insisted. "Do for her what you have always done for me. When the time is right, bring her to Winterfell, or White Harbor. Keep her in the North. So long as she is here, my men will fight for her."

"Yes, I will," he agreed and she let herself smile slightly in gratitude and then leaned in, kissing his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered and then let him help her onto her mare, his hands on her foot as he pushed her up into the saddle. As she shifted, she put the piece of paper under her cloak for safety, not bothering to look back at those who watched her retreat.

She rode hard through the night, not allowing for one moment of rest until they reached the Kingsroad just after dusk. It was there she was to part ways with Benjen, a more difficult task than she originally thought possible. He smiled, the same as always as he hugged her and she let him although the nearness of so many people and so many touches was beginning to smother her. She tried not to mind, in fact she almost didn't. And when she watched him disappear into the Wolfswood she felt her heart ache for one brief moment before she turned herself south and remembered the parchment beneath her cloak.

It was then she allowed herself to read it, scratched with a handwriting she did not recognize until now as Davos'. It wasn't much, only two words, the first of which was easy enough. It was the second that took her a few moments to figure out as she glanced up at an anxious Jon and then shook her head.

_Bastard. Wall._

Davos had written but it wasn't Jon he spoke of. It could read that way he realized, but Davos did not know Jon, nor would he have any reason to write of him unless they'd heard something while they were stationed there about Jon's fate. But Jon was no longer a bastard. He would have heard that.

No, what he meant was someone else. Another bastard left for safekeeping at the Wall.

Edric Storm.

* * *

****ROBB****

The sun was barely visible above the horizon. There was only a small hint of sunlight leaking out into the morning sky, the rest hidden beyond a horizon that had yet to relinquish its hold on the night.

He had not ridden so hard since the war, since days he would prefer to forget. Yet he knew now beyond a doubt that those days were upon him once again. Stannis Baratheon would not stop until the Kingdoms were restored. But Robb would die before the North, or his wife, would be taken from him.

When he dismounted inside Winterfell's gates, there were few people in the courtyard to greet him. Grey Wind immediately ran out to greet him from under an overhang, elation in his barks. Robb pulled his cloak tighter over his head and crouched down letting Grey lick his cheek. It was still far too early and what little warmth the sun would provide as it rose would soon be overshadowed by a dark storm approaching their walls. Despite the inactivity, he did find a familiar face standing near the entrance to the Great Keep and was unable to suppress a smile at the welcome sight.

"Brother," Jon said, approaching him with an open embrace and Robb reciprocated warmly.

"I hope by the welcome sight of your face that my wife has indeed returned to Winterfell unharmed?" he asked and Jon grinned.

"I too was surprised," he jested. "Yes, she is upstairs asleep. She rode hard and she will have news for you."

Robb looked around as they walked and though the activity was scarce, it was clear that from the time of his departure until now, there had been significant work done in both preparations of winter and an imminent attack from Stannis.

"Everyone worked late into the night preparing. From what her sources say, it is likely to expect Stannis by the end of the week if the weather holds."

"Let us pray to the gods that it does not hold in their favor. We can weather the storms. Winterfell was built for this. Have the banners been called?" he asked and Jon nodded.

"She dispatched riders and ravens to the bannermen as soon as she arrived. The Greatjon has already begun preparing from here," Jon answered. "What news of our fleet in White Harbor?"

"The ships have been completed and half of Selene's ships in the West have been stationed back at Seagard. Her captain's await her command," Robb answered, removing his gloves as they thawed in the warmth of the air surrounding him.

"And our Aunt in the Vale?"

"I have dispatched Hawling Kross, who I met with briefly in White Harbor, as envoy to our treaty. She wrote to me saying she and Robin would bow to the North for promise of their protection. Once the treaty is signed, she will promptly send men to our aid."

"You trust this man? Hawling?" Jon asked and Robb nodded curtly. He had already revealed the name Hawling Kross as Wyllas Tyrell's false identity to Jon and Jon alone. But still they agreed never to speak of it again until Wyllas decided to reveal it for himself. "This is good news. The others will be pleased to hear of it," Jon agreed when they reached Robb's chambers.

Grey Wind was eager to enter the room, unwilling to stand another moment as he scratched at the bottom of the large wooden door. Jon removed himself, walking back in the direction he'd come from and left Robb alone as he opened the door, prepared to tell Selene that she ought to have waited for his return before parleying with Stannis.

But the moment the door opened, Grey Wind burst through at a slow trot as he investigated every inch of the room, stopping at Angus'. Angus was snuggled warmly by the fire and lifted his head, wagging his tail happily, at the sight of Robb and Grey Wind. The room was dim still, the fire glowing orange light across to the bed where he found Selene fast asleep, Steffon by her side.

Robb would have prefered a bath, hot water to remove the stench of his travels but as he stood there, removing what little armor he had been wearing as quietly as he could, he knew he would not wait another moment before joining her. He removed what he could, leaving his breeches on as he eased himself onto the furs as gently as possible and neither Selene nor Steffon stirred from their slumber.

Selene had always been a lighter sleeper until Steffon's birth. Now, Robb noticed, she often worked herself into a deep sleep from which even Steffon's cries were difficult to wake her. Even now, as Robb laid his head on the pillow underneath him, he watched her sleep on her side and wondered if she had fallen asleep watching their boy. Steffon was on his back, his lips open just slightly as his chest rose and fell. Robb must have watched it for several moments before the boy's eyes fluttered open slightly.

"Hello, my boy," Robb whispered and Steffon's small hand wrapped around his finger, gripping it with such strength that Robb could not help but feel proud. Steffon's eyes danced around until they landed on Selene and Robb smiled. "That is your mother. Isn't she beautiful?" he asked and Steffon squeezed against Robb's finger almost as if he understood.

It was then that Selene opened her eyes, slowly at first as she took in the sight of him there and her face, if possible, softened more than it had been in her sleep.

"Hello, husband," she breathed and reached out her hand which he caught quickly in his own, placing it against his cheek and then her palm against his lips. "I did not expect you until morning."

"It is morning, my love," he informed her and she rose, starting to move but he placed his hand on her hip, easing her back down.

"There is much to do," she insisted.

"Yes, indeed. And we will do whatever we must. But first, let me enjoy you here, with our boy in our bed."

"Pretending there is no danger does not make the danger go away, Robb," she informed him but he caught the twitch of her lips in the corner of her mouth.

"Then you may talk all you like of it, so long as you stay here as you do it," he compromised and she did not need much convincing as her eyes caught his.

Grey Wind, too, was curious to see his mistress, and he placed his paws on the edge of the bed, shifting it with his weight as he pulled himself up just enough that he was gazing over them with his back paws still resting obediently on the floor.

"He has been a great protector in your absence. I daresay if anything were to happen to us, our son may be raised by direwolves."

"And Angus," Robb corrected and she let out a small laugh. But there was a catch in her breath as she did so, caught by a lump in her throat and he could see there was real fear there behind her eyes as they fell. He took his hand from Steffon whose eyes were once again shielded to the world and he lifted her chin so their eyes met again. "Nothing is going to happen to us," he assured. "Our boy will grow to know both of his parents. And he will love you best. Though he will always come to me when he wants something because you'll assuredly tell him no."

"Is that so?"

"How could he not love you best?" he asked and her smile was bigger than the previous but this one was not one of joy, but of sorrow.

"Robb," she whispered. "I am afraid."

He was certain he had never heard those words from her lips which was why even his smile faded as he watched her eyes close and he crawled over her, so that he was on her opposite side and pulled her back to his chest. The fire crackled as he held her, squeezing her to him so there was no space between their bodies and he placed his lips against her hair. She turned too, then, placing her lips against his as she pushed herself flush against him and it was many moments before either yielded and broke their kiss.

"What is it?" he asked. "What frightens you?"

"Losing you," she whispered at first. "To my father. To his lies."

"What lies?" he asked, his brow furrowing. She shook her head. "Tell me what happened."

"I went to him," she explained. "And he is no longer the same man I once knew. War, defeat, that damn witch of his, they've made him mad, weak-willed. I saw him, standing there and I thought maybe when he heard about Steffon that for a moment he was proud. I could see it there, in his eyes and then it was gone, replaced by a stranger. He wants the North and will do anything to get it even if it means killing you and our son, and ruining my credibility in the process."

"I don't understand. How could he ruin you-"

"There was, a young man, before you," she began and Robb felt his heart drop. "Nothing untoward, I assure you," she added to ease his mind but still he found his mind racing at the thought. "Ser Davos' son, Allard Seaworth, one of my navigators, he was at stationed at Dragonstone with his father. I was fond of the attention, I think. Everyone thought me so cold and dull. I had no friends to speak of and my father rarely let me outside the castle walls. But he was kind to me and he made me want to smile, though I rarely did. I thought perhaps, if I could ever love a man, it would be him. I wanted it to be him."

Robb lowered his gaze away from hers and she sighed.

"But I was wrong," she whispered then and his eyes darted up, his heart leaping with confusion and hope. "What I felt when I was with Allard was a young girl's infatuation and it never went beyond that. Not even when I saw him again at Seagard. I told him as much." He could tell she wanted to look away, that her fingers shook as she placed her palm against his stubbled chin, but her gaze remained steadfast. "Robb, you know how incompetent I am at expressing my true feelings. But you must..." she stammered slightly "...you have to understand that I understand now what love is. I see it, as clearly as if it has always been there and I see it only when I look at you."

"Do you mean to say…"

"I mean to say," she said with only slight pause, the cautious mind of Selene Baratheon calculating her words before she spoke. "I love you. I do. I cannot bear the thought of being parted from you in this life. And it terrifies me that my father might tear you away."

Robb's heart was leaping as he grabbed her face in his hands and he placed his lips against hers, this time with more force and he was sure he wore a stupid grin on his face as he did so. He loved this woman, this wife of his who he could not remember as the stranger she once was when she came to him. They had started this journey, together as partners and now they had ended up here. Selene Baratheon in his arms, their son by his their side as she whispered that she loved him. In that moment he was certain no matter what was put in their path, he could overcome it.

"No one can part us," he promised. "So long as I live I will fight for you, for our son."

"And I for you," she vowed. "He will try to tear us apart, question Steffon's legitimacy."

It should have disturbed Robb but he only grinned wider.

"He has not seen our little Stark. He may have your eyes, wife, but even my mother says he will be my spitting image. No one will question the legitimacy of my son nor will they insult my wife by doing so. He is mine, as are you."

"He wanted me to leave," she told him. "Told me he would keep you safe and I cannot say I wasn't tempted. But I couldn't."

"I wouldn't let you," he laughed. "I think, my dear, I must chain you to my side to keep you from running away again."

"You won't need irons to keep me, Stark," she answered genuinely, kissing his chin. "That is," she added playfully, looking up at him from under her long lashes with a sultry gleam in her eye. "Unless you wish to see me in chains."

"Ah, I see you read the book after all."

"Your books have been good teachers," she told him. "Shall I show you what I've learned?"

"Call for the nurse. My son is much too young to hear of such things," he teased, nipping her exposed shoulder with his teeth and she obliged him for only a moment before answering.

"Perhaps it is just as well," she told him as she adjusted her robe, failing to hide her smile.

"And why is that?"

"Because, you ser, need a bath. Or have you forgotten or wedding night?" she questioned, her lips on his fingertips. "I do not bed filthy Northmen."

* * *

**A/N: I know this chapter was a little off balance with length but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Thanks for sticking with me, I know it's been months since my last update but as you know if you've been to my tumblr (nerdk1ngblake) that I was participating in NaNoWriMo. But as it is now December, I am back to the grind. Lots happening for this story coming up and I thought I'd preface it with a little fluff before I return to my evil ways of making everyone cry….maybe? We'll see. Anyways, thank you again and please let me know what you thought of the chapter. I love your thoughts! Lola  
**


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**A/N: I hope your brought your tissues. I won't waste much time here except to thank you all for sticking with me. I will likely use this as the last chapter before an extended epilogue. But no promises. I'll only say that you will have an absolute ending in the Epilogue. Most importantly...enjoy! - Lola**

**Chapter Nineteen**

**ROBB**

"What are you thinking?"

"I am thinking about what will we do when the winds let up," she whispered, staring out the window over the moors that were littered white.

Steffon was asleep in her arms and Robb stood behind her, his hands resting gently on her shoulders. She stroked lightly over her son's skin, soft under her fingertips that traced distracted patterns as she did. He watched his son's eyes darting as he dreamt, while Selene's stayed glued in one distant place beyond the walls of Winterfell.

"Our army comes. Willas was successful in the Vale and has convinced my aunt to aid our cause. With our soldiers and those from the Eyrie, your father can have no hope of defeating us even _if_ he were to hold us to siege," Robb assured her and it was the third time he'd had to interrupt her words, heavy with dread. "He has been camped a half day's ride for more than a week now. He can't survive out there. He'll either retreat to the Wall where Uncle Benjen will inform us of his plans, or he'll move to assault Winterfell. He needs shelter. He can't weather this winter much longer."

"I worry for my sister," she told him, her eyes still glued out over the blankets of white, miles and miles of nothing stretched out before them. "Davos was meant to arrive by now. He should have sent word."

"He will, Selene," he assured, placing his lips on the top of her head and he felt her lean back into him where once she would have flinched.

It was the first time she seemed to relax, as small as the action was. Robb had not seen her so tense since the first few months of their marriage. Dark circles had formed under her eyes and he knew she had not slept in days. Each night he awoke to find their bed empty of her body and he'd rise frantically, worried he would find that she had gone after Shireen on her own. Instead he would find her sitting in Steffon's nursery with tears in her eyes and perhaps that worried him more.

"I wish I had your confidence," she answered and turned then to look up at him. "But I can only feel dread with each passing day. I have not felt fear like I do now."

"You have faced far worse, My Lady. An Ironborn invasion, a Bolton betrayal, Victarion Greyjoy and a trip to Pyke...hell you married a stranger." He thought he saw her lips twitch at the corners, a lightness flash in her eyes.

"Did you fear me then?" she asked and there was a lightheartedness in her words.

"My dear, I still fear you," he teased, placing his lips against hers. "Trying not to love you was a battle I was happy to lose."

He kissed her again, this time longer as she let her hand snake up the back of his neck until her fingers laced through the curls of his hair. She pulled him towards her, gently. There was love in their embrace, in the way her mouth moved with his, but there was also a hint of sadness he refused to acknowledge. He would not concede without a fight and he had never had a better reason to protect his home until now.

"Your Grace," a voice came from the door and thought Selene started to break the kiss, Robb indulged himself a moment longer as he held her face to his, placing his forehead against hers as he brushed his lips over her eyes. When they looked up Olyvar was standing in the doorway, a lantern in his hands as the candlelight filled the darkness in the room. "A message has come, from Pyke."

"Pyke?" Selene questioned, a furrowed brow and Robb signalled Olyvar to close the door.

Olyvar did as he was instructed and walked in carrying a filthy brown sack in one hand with a letter in the other. To say he looked uncomfortable would have been an understatement. He first placed the letter in Selene's outstretched hand, followed by the bag, with slight reluctance, into Robb's.

Selene wasted no time in opening the letter, her eyes dancing over the words and they widened as she stared down at the bag Robb was curiously inspecting.

"What does it say?" he asked, glancing up and but her eyes were glued to the bag. "Selene?"

Her eyes snapped back to Robb and she handed Steffon to Olyvar who had spent a fair enough amount of time with the babe, and still he looked slightly stiff as he held a squirming Steffon Stark in his arms.

"It's from Victarion," she announced. "He says…" her eyes glanced back at the letter. "_Apologies, My Lady, for the delay in my congratulations. I have heard news of the Prince's birth and have been remiss in my duties here at Pyke. As my gift to the young Prince to honor this name day, I send him the betrayers I had once promised his mother. May their heads have more use in your court than they had in mine_."

Robb looked back down at the bag in his hands, his brow furrowed and Selene's eyes urged him to open it. Robb was cautious, never one very fond of the site of death, and he let out the contents onto the stone floor. Two severed heads fell out then, decomposition had set in slightly but their faces were still recognizable and he saw the disappointment in Selene's eyes.

"Julian," he whispered, the familiar green eyes sewn open. Her frown deepened at at the sight of her most experienced captain and Robb could see his betrayal stung her. But as he glanced down at the second, it was a face he did not recognize. But it was clear from Selene's hurt expression that she did.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Allard Seaworth," she replied, her voice strained but not in grief. She was angry. "He was at Seaguard and I angered him. His response was nearly my death and that of the North."

Robb reached down, covering each head with the bag, holding his breath as the stench hit his nose. He gathered them up, their horrific eyes disappearing under burlap.

"I thought it would ease my mind, knowing," she admitted. "But knowing somehow makes it all the worse. I trusted Julian above all of my men."

"They're dead now. What's done is done," he reminded her as she took Steffon back. The boy noticeably relaxed in her arms as did Olyvar standing next to her.

She glanced up at him. "You're right," she whispered. "What's done is done."

He nodded, turning to Olyvar and handing him back the bag with pity in his eyes as he instructed him to take them to be disposed of. Selene did not glance back at the bag again as it disappeared behind their door and they were once again left alone. But she was not appeased.

"If my most trusted man would turn on me for the lust of power, how many others might I lose to my father's promises?"

"Our men's loyalty will not falter to empty promises. You and I have fought for these men, bled for them. They will fight for us as well."

"If it does come to a fight-" she said, placing her hand on his chest. "I have made certain preparations."

"A waste of your time," he interrupted curtly, unwilling to hear more but she placed her fingers over his lips. His eyes caught hers but she ignored his silent plea to stop.

"I know to what lengths my father would go to ensure his birthright," she reminded him but Robb refused to think of Renly's murder. "I have faith enough that you would avenge me, Robb, but if I do not succeed in this campaign, you must promise you will take up my duties, protect not just our son, but my blood as well."

"Your sister will always be protected."

"Not just Shireen, but Gendry and Edric as well. Edric will be legitimized in place after Steffon and Shireen. You'll promise me that?"

"None of this is necessary because in no way will I be caused to live in a world in which you are not a part of."

"Please," she whispered, placing her forehead against his. "Please just promise me, Robb," she begged and Robb's eyes closed.

"I promise," he answered eventually. "I promise you the world if you wish it."

She placed her lips against his then, letting them linger and Robb could feel a small lump in his throat as if this was her kiss goodbye. But he would not allow it. He had a lifetime of plans for Selene and they all included her by his side.

* * *

**SELENE**

"No."

His voice was forceful, standing over her shoulder as she read the letter presented to her by Ser Davos. Robb was shaking his head but Selene was still reading the words over once again.

"I _must_ go," she countered. Robb moved out from behind her so he was able to face her with fury in his eyes.

"No," he repeated. "He knows we're safe behind these walls. So he seeks to drive you out."

"She's my sister, Robb," she hissed, lowering her breath. The council waited patiently as the two spoke in hushed whispers, their eyes locked. "She needs me."

"Selene," he begged. "Please see this for what it is. You leave the confines of this castle and he has access to you. He will kill you."

"I can't leave her there. If she's ill I must go to her. I must take her and bring her here," she countered.

"And why must it be you? Why not Ser Davos? Why not anyone else?"

"He won't let anyone else through. It's a truce, Robb. My sister is ill and I must be at her side."

"My Queen," Gyff tried to speak as she shot him a look. "Please be reasonable. I will go to your father and bring the Princess here."

"You know my father, Gyff. You know he'll have your head - any of your heads - if he sees my soldiers marching on the Baratheon camps. I will go, with Ser Davos, Lady Brienne and no one else."

"You're mad, woman, if you think I would let you go without me at your side," Robb argued.

"And you're mad, Your Grace, if you think I would allow you outside these walls-" she did not have a chance to finish as Robb stood then, his fists hard on the table and she jumped slightly.

The letter had come with the grave news of Shireen's illness. The blizzard still raged around Winterfell and it's neighboring lands. But Ser Davos came and Selene did not care if it was a trap, she would not chance her sister's fate on the possibility of her demise. But Robb would not hear of it.

"Your Grace, if I may?" asked Davos, clearing his throat as he too stood. Robb nodded, his fists still clenched at his sides. "I do agree that the Queen ought not travel alone. I am not entirely certain of Stannis's motivations as I was not allowed to see the Princess Shireen. But if she truly is ill she cannot withstand another day of this weather. The men in the camps haven't had a full meal in days, they are weak and he will not be able to mount a full attack."

"You see," Selene added, her eyes on Robb. "If he harms me he will stand no chance in defeating us with what little force he has."

"I do not like this," Robb whispered. "I do not trust him."

"You don't have to trust him," she countered. "Just trust me. I will return with my sister and we will endure this winter together, all of us."

She looked up as she finished, letting her eyes rest on each of their bannermen in the room. Each of them wore faces much different than the ones she'd met at her wedding feast. Each man had fought by her side and by Robb's. Selene was raised amongst loyal men, men who would fight for her father. But these men would not just fight for Robb, for Selene, for Steffon. These men would die should she wish it and it was clear in their eyes. She just hoped she would not have to ask them to.

"I will allow this-" Robb paused, looking for the appropriate word as he cringed. "-this folly-," he finally settled on, grinding it out in frustration. "-to continue. But the only way you leave these castle walls, Selene, is if I go with you. My decision on this is final."

Selene stared at him, her eyes flashing in wild defiance but she knew he would not budge. She had learned that her husband was a stubborn man. None of her foolhardy plans would be tolerated without his final say. Not after the mess she'd made of the Bolton's invasion.

"Lady Brienne," she announced, clearing her throat without removing her eyes from her husband's. Robb's glance was hard. "Prepare a small party for departure."

"Olyvar," Robb added, his eyes still locked on hers. "Ready my horse and the Queen's." Robb lowered his voice then as he said, "You do realize traveling in this storm is a deathwish."

"You would do the same for your sisters, would you not? For your mother and brothers," she paused, placing a hand on his. "For me?"

He considered this and she knew from his expression that he understood. He let his fear cloud that realization and she understood why. He loved her and as strange a feeling as it was to admit to herself, she loved him. And together they would fight.

Together, they would win.

* * *

**JON**

As Jon held the babe in his arms, he tried not the think of the immense responsibility now hanging over both of their heads. Robb and Selene were now pushing through the storm, rushing to the aid of the young Princess Shireen whilst Jon waited.

Jon waited with the Prince of Winterfell, his nephew and King should anything befall his parents. He had agreed to Robb's foolish request that Jon be Steffon's guardian, even more foolish when he'd insisted that Jon be King Regent until the prince came of age. Jon was reluctant to agree. He had barely been a Stark for a few months and now he sat here with his brother's child, the faint possibility of more thick in the air.

Steffon was smiling and Jon tried to find hope in it. The boy had his mother's eyes, the same roundness and hint of joy.

He remembered his first impression of Selene, her boldness was as strong as her cold demeanor. But Winterfell of all places had helped her to thaw and he'd seen the whisper of a smile played upon her lips in this life she'd built for herself. The same smile he saw mirrored back now by his nephew.

"It's just you and me, kid," he said, his voice hushed. "Let's pray to the gods that they don't see fit to put us in charge, yeah?"

Steffon squeezed Jon's thumb in response and this time, Jon could not suppress his smile.

* * *

**SELENE**

Despite the raging storms, she could see Robb and his men on the hill. Grey Wind was not as patient as his master and refused to stay behind as Selene, Davos and Brienne found escort into the camp. But Robb watched from a short distance, his auburn curls whipping through the wind as it raged around them and Selene tried not to heed the ache in her chest the further they were parted.

Davos' eyes trailed her carefully and she knew he was gauging her expression, trying to make out her thoughts as they walked towards the large tent. He also eyed the spot where her gloved fingers toyed with the cloth of her cloak at her hip, where beneath it a dagger awaited. She did not return his glances though, afraid that whatever fear she buried beneath her confident facade would be betrayed by her eyes. She needed his faith in her as she now started to doubt faith in herself.

The tent was buried on either side with snow up to Selene's waist and the bleak conditions of the camp did not prove promising for her father's army. Grey Wind was vigilant at her left side, his fur grazing against her hand as he stayed on her heel. Angus prowled in front of her, watching anxiously around him with a careful eye. He would growl any time her father's guard would get too close to her and despite her worry and dread there was slight comfort in his loyalty.

The camp was quiet, silent aside from the sounds of the howling wind and footsteps in the snow. Baratheon bannermen stood in lines, their cloaks and blankets clutched desperately around her shoulders as they shivered in the cold. Their eyes were cast to the ground as they saw her approach, not one man would meet her gaze.

Somewhere beyond the King's tent black smoke rose into the sky and with it the stench of death. She could not see the bodies, but she knew that in this weather these men were begining to die off, one by one. The burden of that knowledge was heavy, these men she's been raised around her entire life. But she had men, women, children...her own child...to think of now. Home at Winterfell. Home.

She did not reach the tent before her father emerged from it and she tried not to look taken aback by his dishevelled look, weakness in his eyes and stance. It was a familiar site and the feeling of dread returned once more as she recalled where she had once seen it.

The last time she'd seen her father in such a state, she had been barely old enough to comprehend the circumstances of their bleak situation. She'd been small then, carried by a young Ser Gyfford Gower into a den of her father's advisors. But still she recognized the eyes of a near desperate man, a man who had lost almost every shred of hope there was left. And still she was certain he looked worse.

"Father," she whispered, a fair distance between them where they stood, Grey Wind refusing to sit at her side as he stood, watching the old king and his mad eyes.

"I was not sure you'd come," he whispered, swallowing hard and the weakness in his eyes was briefly clouded by something else.

"I wish to see my sister," she insisted, raising her chin slightly. Stannis' eyes traveled to Davos.

"You brought more men than instructed, Ser Davos," he noted and Davos gave him a curt nod.

"It was the King in the North's concession for allowing his Queen to walk into what seemed like a trap," Davos answered for her and she held back her surprise at Davos' use of the word _king_.

"Because he was too much of a coward to come himself," Stannis muttered.

Selene did not look back towards the hill where Robb was waiting. He was dressed as guard and from this distance Stannis would not recognize Robb's stature as Selene would. Grey Wind's insistence to be at her side was another thankful deterrent. Her concession for Robb's presence was that he would not allow his identity to be known. His reluctance to agree was overpowered only by his desire to follow her to camp.

"Where is Shireen?" she interrupted and Stannis looked back towards the tent, but did not answer. "You must know I did not come simply to see after her wellbeing," said Selene. "I hope you will not deny her transport to Winterfell."

"That won't be possible," a voice said from within the tent and Selene knew it was Melisandre even before the Red Woman emerged through the tent flaps. She shifted, as did Davos at her side. "The Princess's duty is here, to her father. Not to her rebellious sister, traitor to her people."

"I should have known you'd be lurking nearby," hissed Selene, malice rising in her veins.

"You arrived just in time, dearest Selene," the woman spoke, her voice sticky sweet although she eyed the direwolf and dog at Selene's feet. "Today you shall witness the greatness of the Lord of Light as he bestows his blessings upon the one true king, your father."

"My father relinquished his right to be your one true king when he called for my betrayal," Selene argued, her voice as soft as she could manage. "I will not play your games or worship your god, witch. Give me my sister or I will take her by force."

"Your sister is no longer your concern. You made a choice to cast out your duty to your father. The Princess embraced hers to her house and to her king."

Selene's brow furrowed at the woman's words. Around her the men still stood huddled together facing something on the other side of the tent and out of her view. Within the tent Selene could hear a weeping woman, the sounds of a broken heart growing louder and Selene had heard that cry many times in her youth. Her eyes flashed again to her father, his tired eyes cast to the ground and for the first time she noticed his hands, wringing anxiously in front of him and there was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She rushed forward, pushing past her father. The Red Woman stepped briefly in her path and she ignored the protests of Brienne behind her.

"Get out of my way," she spat and despite the smirk on the woman's lips, she did as Selene requested, stepping sideways as Selene pushed her way through to the tent.

Her pulse raced, a pain somewhere in her chest grew, and her eyes took in every inch of the tent, empty aside from the wailing woman near the empty bed that was her mother.

"Selene?" gasped the woman, eyes red and full as the tears streamed down her face. Selene swallowed the dread that built, the sickness that rose. "My Selene," she said again, this time more desperate as she crawled towards her, grabbing hold of Selene's legs as she knelt at her feet. Grey Wind growled but Selene's hand of warning subdued him into quiet grumbled at her side. "My sweet Selene," the woman wept. "My child."

"Where is my sister, mother?" Selene choked. "Where is she, I want to see her."

Selyse shook her head, more tears forming in the corners of her eyes. And then she wailed, crying out to the Lord of Light, to the Mother, to the Seven, to the Old and suddenly Selene too was shaking her head, trying to pull together sense of the situation when all she wanted was to crumble.

Selene fell to her knees, watching her mother's wild eyes avoid her own. She did not expect her mother's arms to wrap around her, grasping at her desperately as she wept into Selene's chest. Never before had the two of them embraced in such a manner, even when Selene was a child. Her aversion to human contact was not due to lack of want for it. Selene had never felt the warmth of her mother's touch, not since perhaps she was a babe.

"Tell me," Selene demanded in a whisper, her voice strained. "Tell me what happened."

Her mother's only response was more weeping.

"My Lady," a panicked voice interrupted and Selene glanced up to where Brienne stood near the other entrance to the tent, peering out of the flaps.

Her mother was glanced at her then and Selene saw something from their closeness other than grief.

Guilt.

Panic arose in her mind as she pulled her mother off of her, ripping her mother's arms off of her. Selyse grabbed for her but Selene stood and rushed to where Brienne stood. All air left her lungs as she saw what held Brienne's eyes aghast.

"No," she gasped though the word was strangled in her throat. Brienne's hand on her elbow made her jerk and she rushed forward. "No," she shouted this time.

Before her was a hastily built pyre, the source of the black smoke and stench that rose angrily into the sky. Short flames remained as whatever fire that had been lit began to die out. Against the pyre was the charred corpse of a person much too small to be a soldier and all sense left Selene as she ran towards it.

She couldn't hear what she was screaming, only that her throat burned and her head swam along with the fury and brokenness that she felt in her blood. Not one of the soldiers tried to stop her as she shoved her way through the crowd. Selene could not remember who stopped her from falling, only that strong arms wrapped around her as she sunk to her knees, vision blurred from the tears she could no longer hold back.

She was dying, she was sure of it. The pain was equivalent only to that of Steffon's name day. The way she felt when she'd seen his small unmoving body in Maester Luwin's arms. The sickness rose again, this time she could hold it back as her stomach lurched and she coughed into the snow, gasping as she wailed out into the bleak morning. The hands pushed back her hair and she only wanted to shove them away. But she did not have the strength to do anything but scream.

It was some time before she could comprehend what was happening, before she realized that it was a man holding her, both of them on the ground. Selene could feel the cold wetness of the snow as it soaked through her riding trousers and she thought perhaps as she opened her eyes that she was finally catching her breath.

Brienne was close, her sword drawn and Davos too was more alert though there was grief in his eyes. No one stepped towards her though, they only watched beneath pitied gazes as the Princess Selene, Queen in the North, was brought to a state none of them had ever witnessed. She turned herself in the arms of the man holding her and through her shallow breaths and blurred vision she was able to make out the familiar blue eyes of her husband.

"Robb?" she cried out, her voice broken off by a sob. He pulled her to his chest. "Robb she's…"

"I know," he answered when her words cut off. "I know my love, I'm sorry."

"I.." she paused. "I can't...I don't…" but the words would not form. Sense could not be made of this senseless act of evil until she saw a flash of red beyond Robb's shoulder. Red hair, red dress. The red bitch who was responsible for it all. "You," she cried out, pulling herself up from Robb's arms.

He could not hold her back as she left him, rushing and stumbling forward until she reached Melisandre who watched her carefully. Her father was at her side, her mother still howling in grief somewhere within the tent and Selene had never felt as uninhibited as she did in the moment when her fist met the woman's face.

"You did this, you murdered her!" she was shouting and when the woman stumbled back, Selene attempted to hit her again but was stopped by Robb who pulled her back.

"The Lord of Light will embrace this sacrifice. Shireen was needed to purify the blood line," the woman answered, her hand to her face, rubbing the red spot where Selene's fist had collided with her jaw. "Your blood will complete the sacrifice."

Selene frowned but did not have a chance to speak as Robb interrupted with, "You touch her, witch, and I'll kill you myself."

For the first time Melisandre looked at Robb, realization in her eyes and she smiled.

"The Young Wolf came out of his lair after all, I see," she answered, pleased that she had managed to lure both Selene and Robb from the safety of Winterfell. "Guards, take the princess to the pyre."

Selene was certain she'd heard the woman spoke the words, but when no one moved, she thought perhaps she was mistaken. Melisandre glanced around her and the men still eyed the snow. Some searched the faces of their comrades, of their king, but no one budged.

"Take her!" the woman said, louder this time. Robb grasped Selene's hand tightly in his but no one moved towards them. The Red Woman's eyes were wild as she turned to Stannis "My King, the Lord of Light has asked for this sacrifice to make way for your reign. You must finish this here, with Selene, and use her kingsblood to purify your right to rule," she whispered desperately.

But Stannis was silent, his eyes boring into Selene's as he searched for something that Selene did not know. He was the first to step towards her and Robb pulled her back behind him, planting her safely between himself, Brienne and Davos. Stannis paused, recognizing the act as one of protection and he swallowed hard.

"Selene," he pleaded and she did not hide her tears as her head slowly moved from left to right.

"I will _never_ forgive you for this," she hissed. "What you have done here today can _never_ be undone!" Her voice cracked.

"Perhaps I deserve that," he replied, his eyes closing and Selene recognized that her words had wounded him. "I deserve more, death even."

"No," she muttered. "Death is too good for you. You deserve to live with this, you and mother. I pray to the gods that death does not come swiftly for you. That you will endure the suffering tenfold of what my sister was subjected to this day." She pushed herself closer, Robb allowing her to step nearer to her father only as Grey Wind sat at her heels, growling viciously. "You are dead to me. To think," she sniffed, rubbing at her nose as she cried. "To think that once I admired you. I believed that you were the answer to the suffering of our kingdoms but you have destroyed everything that you hold dear. What good can come of you sitting on the throne? You are a monster, no better than any Lannister bastard."

Ordinarily the words would have eaten at his pride and Selene would have experienced a well placed slap across her face for such defiance. But all arrogance and fury had left the old stag. Now all that was left was the shell of a once great man, and the sum of his life choices.

Selene could not muster the pity for him then as she left him nor could hate herself for pleading silently to the gods, whichever gods would listen, that her father would be damned to hell to pay for his sins for all eternity.

No one stopped them as they left camp, only watched, bowing their heads as she walked passed them and climbed upon her mare to return to Winterfell. The storm slowed slightly but only so much that she could see Grey Wind and Angus running like the wind through the snow. Davos rode at her side but neither spoke. Both knew the words would only hurt them both more and everything they had to say was written in mournful glances.

And late into the night Selene felt her eyes dry, her throat still ached but she could finally breath slow and steady breaths. And somewhere between the fire slowly dying in the fireplace and Robb's arms wrapping gently around her waist, his face buried in her hair, she finally found peace.

But the fury never died. 

* * *

**ROBB**

Robb awoke to sunshine for the first time since returning to Winterfell after his conquest in the Westerlands. He stood in the godswood, holding his son against his chest, wrapped in the fur lining of Robb's cloak as he watched the sun rise over the weirwood. Steffon was awake and unusually happy as he giggling slightly.

This was new, the giggling, and Robb relished in it, smiling as the sunbeams warms both of their faces. He whispered a quiet thanks to the gods as they stood there and Steffon's blue eyes were full of a joy he thanked the gods for as well.

Selene did not leave the confines of their rooms, choosing to stay buried beneath the furs as she watched the sunshine from their window instead. He knew to give her space, understanding the loss and the burden of pain that was now placed upon her. Grey Wind had taken to the bed, wrapped around his mistress as Robb had spent most of the night. Angus, seemed to take Robb's approach and gave her the space she desired, while instead opting to keep his eyes trained on the baby in Robb's arms.

Nearby, Bran on a large rock, toying with Summer's tail as they stared at the iced over pond. Jon was focused on the weirwood as well, his eyes closed in what Robb assumed was prayer. Arya was helping Rickon climb a fairly large tree whilst Sansa cheered him on. They were all here, together again, he thought despite the hardships they had all been faced with. And soon, the Baratheon army would be at their gates, the guards on the tower announcing their distant approach. But for this moment, he would enjoy what sunshine he could, the giggles of his son and the smiles on his siblings faces.

The moment passed to quickly as a horn blared from the North Gate.

"They're here," Jon whispered and Robb nodded, reluctantly as he kissed Steffon's forehead and relinquished him into his sister's arms.

"Hodor," Robb instructed. "Take Bran into the keep with the others and Arya go to Selene and tell her the army has reached our gates."

No one argued as they parted ways, Sansa and Rickon with the baby, Hodor with Bran and Arya with her task to find Selene. Jon and Robb however walked in the opposite direction of the Great Keep towards the North Gate. There the men were gathering, their boots sloshing through melted snow, dark with mud.

Jon climbed behind Robb up the steps to the gate watch where dozens of their archers stood at the ready, crossbows in tact. Many moments passed as they stood there, looking out over the snow covered moors in surprise at the small numbers that approached. The army was small, much smaller than they'd seen at the camps and not one soldier, standing or on horseback, carried Baratheon banners.

"Where is he?" Robb asked under his breath and Jon shook his head.

"What is his game?"

"It is no game," they heard from their backs. Both turned to see Davos standing, arms crossed over his chest as he stared out at the masses in contemplation. They weren't even in range yet, but it was clear the men had dwindled by nearly half. "This isn't Stannis' army, not the loyal half anyways," Davos informed them.

"How do you know?" Robb asked curiously.

"Baratheon bannermen carry their banners into battle. What approaches looks like a quarter of Stannis' men, the rest are various houses who pledged their loyalties to House Baratheon after Renly's death. Stormlanders, most of them."

"And they've abandoned their king for what purpose?" Jon questioned.

"It looks like we are about to find out," noted Davos, nodding his head towards the man in front holding a white flag.

Robb stepped closer to the edge of the wall so he could see down to where they waited on the other side of Winterfell's barricaded moat.

"What do you want soldier?" one of Robb's guards shouted down to them and even from so high above Robb could see the black circles under the man's eyes.

"We come here both to warn you that Stannis Baratheon's men are en route to Winterfell as we speak," the man shouted up towards them. "And also, to offer our services to the King in the North."

"You've abandoned one King for another?" Ser Davos asked and the man looked to his feet.

"Forgive me, Your Grace," the man said then, this time speaking directly to Robb. "But while we've come to offer aid against Stannis and his Red Witch, our allegiance is pledged to our Queen."

Robb understood then that these men were not simply running from the madman that had become of Stannis Baratheon. They had come to declare Selene the heir to the Iron Throne above her father. Robb was about to speak when each man dropped to his knees, some slowly, weakly as they fell into practiced bows, burying their knees in the snow and Robb looked to his left where each man had directed his eyes.

There she stood, her hair untamed and whipping wildly in the wind. She pulled her fur-lined cloak over her nightdress, her eyes still red and tired. One by one the men pulled their eyes then from a curt bow and up to Selene Baratheon with hope. The man with the white flag placed it next to him on the ground, reaching for his sword and pulled it from his hilt slowly. He then placed it in front of him, bowing his head once more as he shouted out the words that led the crowd in chant.

"Long live the Queen!"

Again and again they shouted it until silence hushed over them and Robb turned, standing before her, their eyes meeting as he too let himself fall down to one knee. She looked at him oddly, a furrow in her brow as she stood over him and she did not flinch as he took her hand in his and placed his lips to her bare flesh.

And then with a smile he whispered, "Long live the Queen." 


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**10 Years Later**

**DAVOS**

It was a long time, after the wars and after the rise of a new era in Westeros that Davos Seaworth finally found himself at peace in the later years of his life. War had scarred him, many times over, deep down to his soul. It took and took until there was little left in his heart except what love he had left for Selene. He watched her grow from child to woman, and now from a woman into the ruler the people needed.

Ten years had passed since the Battle at Winterfell. Stannis Baratheon, driven mad by the sacrifice of his youngest daughter lost in his attempt to battle his eldest. Selene, still devastated by the loss of her sister, allowed Brienne of Tarth to exact her revenge on the Stag King in her place. Davos did not inquire into the man's death, though part of him wished it was by his hand that his once friend found his end. Instead he held Selene in his arms as they both grieved Shireen, the tenderest of souls.

He had heard the Lady Selyse had dealt with her guilt by her own hand, taking her life before Stannis pulled what was left of his army to march on Winterfell. Davos tried to find pity in the woman's death but he felt only disdain.

The Red Woman found her end by other means, taken prisoner by the Night's Watch during her attempt to flee the losing battle, and executed by the hands of the Queen who sentenced her to death for her crimes. It was the last day Selene wept for her sister.

It was a full year before Selene gathered the force she needed to march on King's Landing. By then Davos was made Hand of the Queen and King of Westeros a position he was reluctant to accept even as Selene pleaded that he do so. But he could not refuse her, the last of the Baratheon's he held dear in his heart.

And it was there he stood, by her side ten years since they'd made a pact to move on from that wretched day they so longed to forget.

The ship was a beauty, the most respected vessel in the kingdoms and Queen Selene was its sole captain. _Winter's Fury_ was finally returning to White Harbor after a year across the Narrow Sea and the elation was written on his face as he saw land on the horizon. Selene no longer hid her smiles either, and she allowed herself a full grin, teeth bared, as she saw her homeland once again.

The Queen had returned.

* * *

**STEFFON**

"Father!" the boy shouted, standing atop the castle gates, shouting down towards where his father stood talking with Lord Manderly in the courtyard. He looked up towards his son curiously. "I see her. I see _Winter's Fury!_"

"Well," his father replied with a chuckle. "Shall we go out to harbor to meet her captain?"

Steffon wasted no time in descending the castle gate wall, taking the steps two at a time as he leapt down them with wild abandon and excitement at the prospect of seeing his mother again after so long apart.

Steffon Stark had seen his mother's ship a dozen times in his near eleven years. The ship was a thing to behold and it had been the reason he'd been determined to know as much about ships and sailing the seas as he possibly could. One day he would be King, it was a burden he had been dealt by the gods and a responsibility he hoped it would be many years before he ever had to take on. In the meantime he would learn everything he could about the skills needed not only to wear the crown, but also to rule the seas.

The harbor was crowded as they approached on horseback, Lord, Ladies and commonfolk all huddled around the docks as the ship dropped anchor. Steffon dismounted, his father and Grey Wind at his side. The large direwolf yipping with the same excitement pulsing through Steffon's veins. Steffon reached an impatient hand up to his brother, Ned.

The boy of eight would be an accomplished horseman one day, at least that's what their father had said. And yet still Ned had trouble dismounting without stumbling slightly. Steffon didn't mind helping his brother save face in front of the other Lords even if at times his brother's boasting would irritate him to no end.

"Come _on_ Ned," he muttered under his breath, trying to hurry his brother along.

"I _am_, Steffon!" was Ned's frustrated reply, plopping down into the mud, his boots causing a splatter that soiled both of their cloaks. Steffon only frowned. "What about Ben?"

"Ben's with Papa, now let's go!" again Steffon grabbed his brother's hand, leaving their father and their younger brother Benjen far behind them. Grey Wind raced at their side, yipping happily as his tongue flopped outside of his snout.

Steffon ran as fast as his legs would allow him, ignoring the complaints of his brother begging him to slow down. He searched the boats as they flooded in, each rowboat containing her mother's best men with jolly smiles as they neared land for the first time in weeks. Steffon's legs slowed as they reached the edge of the docks, letting his eyes fall over each figure as he waited for familiar eyes.

"Do you see her?" Ned asked, shading his eyes as he too looked for their mother.

"Not y…" Steffon started but then he heard the cheers of the people shouting excitedly and he jerked his head towards the direction of the excitement and there she was.

Selene Baratheon, their Queen, and their mother.

* * *

**ROBB**

Robb carried his youngest son through the cheering crowds, each of his subjects moving aside, bowing briefly as they cleared a path for him to reach the edge of the docks where Steffon and Ned were jumping and waving excitedly. He didn't spot her until he neared their side and Benjen shouted out "Mama!" in pure elation.

He hadn't seen his wife in nearly a year since her departure towards the Free Cities as Queen to the Northern Kingdoms. He had been going mad without her by his side having sworn to never be parted from her for longer than necessary.

But this journey had been necessary, he reminded himself.

Ten years after the exhaustive war he'd waged, he once again faced the terrifying threat of battle. This time, if possible, the danger was more significant. This time, there seemed little hope of winning. And so, with three-thousand men from the Northern Kingdoms, Selene sailed to the Free Cities alongside wardens of all the Kingdoms of Westeros. And there, he'd heard, they had met with the feared Mother of Dragons, Daenerys Targaryen.

Ben squirmed in his arms as they approached, Grey Wind barking out loudly as he spotted his mistress, and his old friend Angus. The old hound was grey and tired, but still he sat at Selene's side with a loyalty strengthened by all their years together. Robb put Benjen down, allowing him to run to his brothers who were now waving to their mother.

Her boat finally docked, Brienne and Davos at her side as well as her cousin and Warden of the Central Kingdom still known as the Stormlands. Edric Storm was now Edric Baratheon, the carrier of Selene's family name that would live on with Edric's young sons. They would likely never be kings in their own right, Selene had told him once, but at least there would be Baratheons to see what became of this land after they were long and buried. And to her, that was all that mattered.

Robb's attention snapped then to his wife as each man and woman around the royal family knelt down on one knee. She emerged then, back on land and she was not granted a moment to stabilize herself as their sons pounced, gripping onto her. She knelt down to their level, holding all three of them as best as she could, kissing their faces as she held them to her chest. It was several moments before she looked up, before her eyes met Robb's.

She stood slowly, patting Grey Wind on the head as he yipped at her side. Robb counted three, four, and finally five steps until she reached him and all decorum was lost as he reached his arms around her and pulled her off her feet. Robb didn't hear the crowd's cheers as he placed his lips against hers, laughing as he saw a blush creep over her cheeks. Despite her embarrassment her arms wrapped around his neck and it was she who deepened the kiss, unwilling as Robb, to let go of that moment.

When they finally did part, however, it was to his Uncle Benjen's throat clearing hint and both Selene and Robb had been reduced to giggles like inseparable adolescents. Selene acquiesced the request but did not let go of Robb's hand as they faced the masses, her other hand occupied by her youngest son's.

"Do you come with good news?" he asked her, his voice low and was pleased when her eyes met his without her expression changing.

"There is hope to be had, My King," she told him, placing the back of his hand to her lips. "But let us discuss such things later. Let me revel in this moment until I am sick with joy."

"Lady Brienne," Robb shouted out behind him in faux distress. "I am certain you have misplaced my wife, and found this here woman to replace her. Surely my Queen would have no use for folly."

Brienne, Selene's appointed Lady Commander of her Queensguard could not stifle the grin on her normally composed expression. She replied, clearing her throat to regain her usual continence, "I can assure you, My King, that no one could strike fear into the hearts of her crewmen like My Lady the Queen."

"Ah indeed, it must be her then," he teased in reply and laughed as Selene stared back at both of them aghast.

"I should have you both put in irons for such insolence," countered Selene, laughing as she did so.

Robb had very much despaired at the idea of Selene leaving Winterfell months earlier. Ten years prior he had told her he would never let her out of his sight again, for fear of what more separation would bring them.

In the ten years since, Robb and Selene worked together to reshape the kingdoms as they stood today. It had taken less convincing than he'd anticipated, changing Selene's mind. He had thought it an impossible feat when the wardens of Westeros met at the peace summit, in the midst of the harsh winter at Winterfell's hall. Selene never spoke of her plan to liberate the kingdoms, she and Willas never had the chance when each man stood before her and bent a knee, calling her Queen on the Iron Throne. Robb told her to break the kingdoms now might cause more turmoil.

For the first time since he'd known her, she agreed.

She and Willas stood behind closed doors for what seemed like hours before they emerged, both in agreeance that the kingdoms must remain under the rule of one. Robb could see now that this was a burden she long dreaded. She wanted to sever the ties to one throne in order relinquish some of the responsibility that would fall on her. But it was her duty, she'd told him. And it was a duty she meant to uphold.

So she was Queen of the seven kingdoms, the capital of which was now his home and his seat in the North. She and Robb would rule equally, neither as consort. Together they would share the burden.

Her first command as Queen after the upheaval of King's Landing, was the destruction of the Iron Throne. No one would sit on the monstrosity of death, she said. It had been forged in bloodlust and destruction. She intended to be a just queen, but a fair one. No one questioned this of their new queen as her Baratheon temper had been heard of far and wide.

And so there was a coronation. Two crowns, one court and six wardens were appointed as the new realm of Westeros. Per her agreement, Victarion Greyjoy kept his crown though through many hours of dealings between the two sea captains, the agreement was made that the Ironborn would no longer be able to raid the shores of Westeros. They would trade and help to provide the Kraken King with supplies and nourishment for his people, under the agreement that the Ironborn would protect the western coastlines from outside invaders.

Ten years later, Victarion had kept his vow.

And he'd named his firstborn daughter, Selene.

Now the kingdoms sat in peace, waiting for news of their Queen's meeting with Daenerys Targaryen, the threat that had long sat across the Narrow Sea, biding its time with stories of dragons hanging over their heads. And from the smile on Selene Baratheon's usually straightlined face, it seemed clear to him that perhaps the threat would at least be appeased.

* * *

**SELENE**

She had longed for this, she thought to herself, wrapped neatly at Robb's side beneath the furs of their bed. Her trip to the Free Cities had been taxing from the moment she'd set foot on their shores. She had heard many things about Daenerys Targaryen and was pleased to find that most of them had been generally fabricated. But the legends of her dragons had not been false.

She had seen the skulls of dragons in the Red Keep as a child. She had read about dragons in Shireen's history books. But nothing told of how she would feel when she glanced upon the great beasts that stood at the Dragon Queen's back. They towered over her and it took all of her strength to hold her composure in the face of the woman who wanted to take her throne.

Things had been difficult at first and after weeks of hearing Daenerys' lineage, built with title upon title as the would be queen of Westeros, it was clear the woman's distaste for the Baratheon name would not be easily altered.

It took months of negotiation before the mutual respect began to grow and more than once Selene's fury was only deterred by Ser Davos' attentive glances of disapproval. Somehow he always knew exactly when she was ready to explode with frustration at the girl who was only a few years younger than Selene herself.

She had thought about telling Robb it had been easy to win the girl over. But Robb could see right through the facade that was Selene Baratheon's awful attempts at lying. Instead she told him of their arguing and clashing temperaments. But both held the same desire to do what was right and to seek out what was best for their kingdoms.

Daenerys had been reluctant, but eventually Selene was able to convince her that the Kingdoms were safe in her hands and in the hands of the Stark and Baratheon bloodlines. Baratheon may have usurped the Targaryens in Robert's Rebellion, she'd said, but Selene was of a different breed. She would see the return of honor to all the great houses of Westeros, including Targaryen should the Mother of Dragons wish it. Selene reminded the woman of the greatness she had accomplished in the land of Essos and how it was her responsibility to see them rise into greatness, not abandon them for a dream that had long passed.

This, of course, had been the most difficult for the Targaryen Queen to understand. Of course she wanted to avenge her family, avenge the murders of her blood and take back what was hers by right. But she had admitted to Selene that it was the plan of a naive young girl with dreams of a home she'd never lived. Now she was one of the most fearsome rulers in all the lands, known for her strength and her compassion. To abandon them now, she'd agreed, might only dishearten the people she'd spent a decade trying to liberate into a new era.

Six months after this realization began more negotiations, dealings which proved exhausting for both queens until an agreement had been made. There would be no war, no threats and Daenerys' dragons would not fly across the Narrow Sea. Selene would open trade routes from all major harbors to the same opportunities previously only afforded by the Free Cities and their ships. Together they would create a new world, one that would unite their bloodlines and Westeros would enter a new era of greatness.

Selene was less certain than perhaps she had hoped that Robb would agree to what had been demanded by Daenerys, under the thin guise of compromise. Steffon was young still, she thought, her heart clenching at the woman's request. But if it was the only way for peace, she thought, then she would abide it.

Steffon would marry Daenerys' young daughter, when she came of age and together the Stark, Baratheon and Targaryen bloodlines would reign for decades to come.

She was a sweet child, mischief in her eyes that Selene could tell the child tried to mask for her mother. But it was that light that gave her hope, hope that her son and husband would forgive her for forcing them into an arrangement Selene had hoped to avoid.

Robb had been disappointed for his son, but he agreed she'd done what was best. Steffon was to be king one day, and even the boy knew that an arrangement of such magnitude might be thrust upon him. He had not fought her, simply nodded solemnly before taking her hand in his own and pressed the palm of it to his lips.

"Perhaps our son will find the same joy as we have," he whispered and she had smiled through the ache in her chest.

Now, it was only hours before dawn and soon preparations would begin for the feasts to celebrate the young prince's betrothal. But she would not bother with such things now, as she lie awake next to her husband's sleeping body. She let her hand, trace over the scars on his bare chest and she was reminded momentarily of their wedding night when she had been afraid to touch them.

Now she had no such fears. His skin, the small patches of auburn hair that curled under his collarbone and those lips of his that were bruised from their hours of passion, those belonged to her as she belonged to him. His breathing changed and Selene watched his eyes open slowly, his mouth turned upward in a sleepy grin and she felt his arm snake around her back as he pulled her flush against him.

This was bliss, she decided. In Robb Stark's arms there was no fear and no worry, only bliss. And she would be forever thankful to the gods not just for the kingdoms she ruled, but that it was at his side that she did so. For his love and for the life they'd built together. For Robb, her husband, her love...always.

-

A/N: Wow, so this finally came to an end didn't it? It's hard to believe I am finally saying goodbye to Selene and Robb especially after so long with them in my mind. I can only hope you all enjoyed reading them as much as I did writing them. No story is perfect and after every story I finally complete I feel I have grown into a new writer. Thank you all - readers, reviewers, PMers who encouraged me and wrote some of the most beautiful and kind words about my story and the characters I've created. And thank you also to those of you who gave me constructive criticism, it has honestly helped me become better and for that I appreciate you so much. So now it's time for a final goodbye. You're all so lovely for sticking with me through all the long waits. Love to all of you! xLola


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